Killing The Cliche
by GuiltyMind
Summary: After finding out her 'parents' aren't who they say they are, Tris makes a run for it, but she can't go alone. That's where her neighbour comes in. With no place to call home, they realise that perhaps they don't need a place - just each other.
1. Chapter 1

**"Killing The Cliche"**

 **Rated T/M (sexual content, violence and language)**

 **Chapter 1 (Tris POV)**

 **-oo0oo-**

"Hey, mom, I'm just going to go finish up my homework," I say as I finish stacking up the dishwasher, and wipe my hands on the hand towel. "I have a paper due tomorrow, and my teacher will kill me if it's not in on time."

"Of course, but dinner is ready in half an hour. Your favourite - spinach and ricotta cannelloni." Mom says, waving me away with a kind smile. I give her a nod and grab my school bag that is sitting at the foot of the staircase, then proceed to head up to my bedroom.

I push open the door and fling my backpack onto my bed. After kicking off my loosely-laced converse, I throw my long hair up into a high ponytail and sit down at my desk.

I open up my laptop and pull up my Spotify, putting my playlist on shuffle before continuing to work on my History paper, about The Civil Rights in the USA, from 1865-1992. My teacher is super strict when it comes to deadlines, and I've been good at handing all my homework in on time so far, and I don't want to stop now.

I'm pretty focused on school, you could say. I'm a straight A student, on the honour roll, and I'm taking a lot of AP classes this year to keep me busy. I also maintain a good social life, as well as my involvement in extra-curricular activities, so I have something extra to put on my CV and applications for college.

My parents have always been dead-set on me getting into Stanford University, and have been pushing me to do all this extra stuff to give me an edge on all the other applicants. I'm currently a senior, and I'll be sitting my exams in July, which means I only have a couple months to study everything. And if I don't get good grades, then I won't get into Stanford, my parents will be super disappointed, and so will I.

I guess I have a lot of pressure put on me, a lot for a seventeen-year-old, anyhow. A lot of the students in my grade don't share my motivation to succeed, and have spent their senior year gooffing off, and not paying attention in any of their classes. Which is cool, if you _don't_ want to get a good job, or go to college, or earn a good amount of money...

I'm just glad I wasn't raised that way; if I showed any signs of slacking, my parents would jump in right away and find out what the problem was.

I can't afford to waste time admiring boys during class, when I could be spending those spare minutes paying attention and learning stuff. Call me a nerd or whatever, but I just want to make my parents proud of me. But doesn't everyone?

My cellphone buzzes in my pocket, so I pull it out to see a text message from my friend Piper, asking if I have a spare charger cable I could borrow for her phone. She has recently moved out of her parents house, after some huge disagreement, and is currently living with her boyfriend in his apartment, who attends the local college. And because of that, half of her stuff is still at her family home, which means she has to try and get by without a few things that she would usually have on hand.

How her parents would allow her to just leave like that, I have no idea. Especially as she is now living alone with a guy - my parents won't even let me go out on dates with a guy.

I text her back quickly, assuring her that I'll try and find one, but can't promise anything. So I abandon my almost-finished History paper and search through my drawers for that spare charger cable that I knew I had, but now it's nowhere to be seen.

I exit my bedroom and walk towards my parents bedroom across the hall, expecting that they probably borrowed it or something, so I'll just go get it back. I open up the door, quietly, and flick on the light.

My parents are usually pretty sketchy about me going into their room without them being there, which I've always found weird, but usually I respect their wishes. But I need to find this cable as soon as possible, so I can get back to finishing up my school work.

So I search through their nightstands, but find nothing, as well as the chest at the foot of their king-sized bed, but still I cannot find this damn cable anywhere. So I crouch down beside the bed and lie flat on my stomach so that I can pull out the junk that remains under there - perhaps they put it away by mistake, thinking it wasn't in use? It could be easily done, so it's better to check.

There is a big black box stuffed full of random, useless crap, of which is not a charger cable. So just as I'm about to give up and shove the box back under, I notice another box under their bed too. It's black, like the other, but it's smaller, and lighter.

Out of curiosity, I prise off the lid to find a stack of papers and photographs. The top piece of paperwork looks the oldest, and when I pick it up and glance at the title, my brows draw together - it's a print-out of a missing persons' website, that gives information about the people, where they were last seen, descriptions of their appearance etc.

My eyes scan over all of the descriptions, but one catches my eye. It talks about a girl who went missing when she was only three-years-old, after her whole family had been brutally murdered - and the killers have yet to be found. She is reported to have honey blonde hair, grey eyes and pale skin, as well as the fact that she is fairly skinny. It says that she would now be seventeen, and the police have given up their search, assuming that the girl is now dead.

The description oddly matches up to my appearance, just about. But I can't even make that connection; my family have not been murdered, because they're downstairs right now. So why do they have all this stuff hidden away under their bed?

I continue to look through all the papers, to find similar articles and newspaper clippings, most of them mentioning the missing girl and the murder of her family, that happened over in Chicago. As I lift the last piece of paper out of the box, I drop it onto the carpet and have to grip onto the frame of the bed so that I don't faint out of sheer panic and shock.

There is a picture of that girl, and what she would look like today.. and I know who this girl is. I recognise those dark grey eyes, that long blonde hair, the shape of her nose, the slightly heart-shaped face.

I recognise this girl because it's what I see every time I look into the mirror.

That girl, that supposedly missing girl, who's whole family was terribly murdered, looks exactly like _me_.

With trembling hands, I put all the papers back into the box, in what I think was the original order and push it back into the darkness underneath the bed. I stand up and rush for the door, closing it quietly behind me so that Mom doesn't hear from the kitchen, she seems to have astounding hearing - she has no trouble hearing me try to sneak downstairs during the night for a snack, as she catches me every time.

I quickly cross the hall and get back into my own room, making sure to close the door behind me. I rush back to my laptop and minimise the word document that contains my forgotten History paper and quickly open up Google.

I search up for the website address I saw on one of those print-outs, and click on the first link that pops up. It takes me straight to a website exact to the one I saw on the sheets of paper, and I click on the case that has gotten my full attention.

Reading more about it, I find out that the police found the dead family in their house a few days later, after a neighbour reported an odd smell coming from their house, and thought it was odd they hadn't attended one of their brunches, so went to check in on them. Long story short, what they found was not at all what they were expecting, and the police were called. They looked into it for years, patrolling the country, putting out Amber Alerts.. but the website says that the girl was never found, and neither were the attackers who killed the man, woman and five-year-old boy.

The case remains open, but a reporter states that it seems even the officials have given up hopes, seeing as the criminals had left no trace, meaning they are rather intelligent - not many people can get away with murder, especially not a homicide of this magnitude. So they think the girl was killed shortly after being abducted, thrown in a ditch somewhere, or possibly even fed to a wild animal.

There's a picture attached to the article, of a young blonde girl, cuddling a toy rabbit, with part of its left ear missing, and my blood runs cold.

Scrambling away from my desk, I run to my walk-in closet and use my small shoe box to reach the top shelf, above my clothing rail. Pulling down the floral-printed box, I quickly rip away the lid and fish through the contents before finding it. Finding the toy I was obsessed with for all of my childhood, as far as I can remember.

A grey bunny, with a chunk missing out of its left ear.

This is all too weird. How can this be a coincidence? The fact that they own those clippings and have them hidden away, and that the girl looks a lot like me, and that I own the exact same toy. None of it adds up.

But.. if I really am the girl in the pictures and the article, and my family really is dead.. then who are those people I'm living with and have been calling Mom and Dad?

"Tris, dinner is ready! Come down here and set the table please." Mom calls up the stairs. Or should I even call her that?

No - I'm getting ahead of myself here. I need to relax and take a deep breath; clearly there is some kind of answer to all of this, and I just have to stay calm and figure out what that is. But for now, I'll go downstairs and act normal, and then I can start searching up more stuff about what really happened fourteen years ago.

So I put the box back up on the top shelf, walk out of my closet, and then shove my grey bunny under my pillow. I exit all tabs on my laptop and turn it off, before straightening my shirt and walking out into the hall.

In the kitchen, Mom is serving up the cannelloni onto plates, and Dad is cutting up pieces of french baguette for us all to eat. They smile at me, and I do my best to offer one back before going to the cutlery draw and taking out the right amount of knives and forks for everybody. I lay them out correctly on the table, and then take my usual place.

A heaping plate of cannelloni is placed in front of me, as well as a glass of lemonade, but I wait until both of my parents have sat down to eat. Just as I always do. Mom says it's polite to wait until everybody is ready to eat, so I do. Even at school, or when I'm out to dinner with friends. It's became a habit now, I guess.

"So, how was school today, Tris?" Dad asks me as we all start to dig into the homemade meal, but I don't have much of an appetite anymore.

"Good," I respond. "I got an A+ on my Chemistry mock exam, and we got assigned partners for our next Art project."

"And who did you get partnered with?"

"Four Eaton." I say, taking a small sip of lemonade, cringing as it burns my throat.

"Eaton?" My Mom echoes. "You mean the Eaton's who live nextdoor? I had no idea that their son was in your Art class!"

"Yeah, he's actually kind of talented," I say, shrugging. "It'll be fun to work with him." _If he ever decides to stop being a buzz kill_ , I add silently.

I wasn't lying when I said Four was talented in Art, he really is. But he's not much fun to work with, I must admit. He's sort of a loner around school, and he rarely talks to anybody unless necessary. A lot of the girls think he's extremely good looking, which is true. But he's never interested in pursuing any of them, even the popular girls like Lauren Walker. But maybe this project can help bring him out of his shell a little. Maybe.

We spend the rest of dinner talking lightly, and my parents initiate into their own conversation regarding politics, and it's at that point that I stand up and start to gather up the empty plates, as a good excuse to leave the room.

I place them beside the sink since the dishwasher is still on from when I filled it earlier on, and then I get out the wine glasses from the cupboard above the blender. This'll keep them busy enough to let me be alone in my room for an hour or two, without them interrupting. After taking through the glasses and what I know to be my Mom's favourite wine, I excuse myself upstairs and quickly get back to what I was doing before I was called downstairs.

I sit down on my desk chair again, and pull up the picture of the girl holding the bunny on my laptop, and compare it to the one in my hand. They're identical. From the dodgy ear, to the small tear in its right leg. I'm trying as hard as I can to try and think of some kind of logical explanation to all of this, but I can't think of anything.

None of this makes sense - _hypothetically_ , is this really is me, then how have those people downstairs convinced me that I am their daughter? And how did I get with them in the first place? Could they have made some deal with the people who took me? Or.. they could be the people who took me and murdered what could _hypothetically_ be my whole family.

It sounds crazy, absurd, deranged, insane. But that's what makes me all the more convinced. It could explain the lack of pictures of me as a child, and why there are no pictures of me posted online. They have refused to let me have social media, which means I cannot contact anybody through the internet, only texting. And unlike other parents, they do not own Facebook, so they cannot post proud pictures of me on there either, like I've seen a lot of other parents to do to their kids.

I always thought they just preferred not to get involved with all the gadget stuff, but could there really be another reason? Like they don't want anyone to find out where I am, or that I'm still alive. It was their idea to call me Tris when I started school instead of Beatrice. And it cannot be a coincidence that the missing girl had the same name as me, can it? That doesn't just happen by chance.

Those people, just a floor below me, could be guilty of a very serious act of homicide, which would earn them both a life sentence, if not a couple. I've slept only a few rooms away from them this whole time. That fact makes me want to burst into tears. I feel like everything I've ever known has just been pulled out from under me.

I want to convince myself that this is all a joke, that I'm just paranoid. But there's no other reason for any of these similarities, and it is _not_ any coincidence, that's for sure.

I go over to my bed and quickly empty the contents of my backpack out so that it is empty. I wrap my laptop up in a t-shirt for extra protection and slide it into my backpack, as well as a few pairs of leggings, a sweatshirt and a couple t-shirts. As well as a bunch of underwear and socks, and other necessities that I'll need to keep me going for a few days.

I can't stay here. Not under the same roof as two complete strangers, who until now, were thought to be my parents.

I put in my phone too, along with my usual charger and a portable one, just in case. I throw a grey hooded sweatshirt on over what I'm wearing, and slip my converse back on, lacing them up tightly.

I exit my room and stand out in the hall, thinking over my options. I can go and confront them about exactly what I've found, or I could lie and tell them I'm going over to the Eaton's to work on the Art project, or I could sneak out before they could stop me. I decide to confront them, and give them a chance to explain; I may be overreacting, and I should hear them out, at least. But if it goes wrong and I prove to be right, it could get ugly, and I need to be able to protect myself.

So I take a quick trip into the office at the end of the hall and find the key that's hidden under the potted-plant in the corner, which unlocks the safe in the corner which holds most of our savings and a pistol, for emergency situations, such as home invasions.

I pocket some of the money, at least, the amount I think is mine, which is most of it considering all my money I've been given from holidays and birthdays have been deposited in there so I could save up for a car. But this is more important.

I also take out the pistol and slip it into the waistband of my black skinny jeans, and pull my hoodie over it, so that it isn't visible, but easy to accesss if needed - I'm not sure what to expect when I go down there, so I need to be prepared for anything.

I pause for a moment at the top of the stairs before walking down, gripping onto the rail so I don't fall, seeing as my legs are so shaky. The last step creaks as my foot hits it, and I inhale sharply.

"Tris, is that you?" I hear ' _Dad_ ' call from the kitchen.

I grit my teeth and go to the kitchen, and find them washing up at the sink, side by side. "What's with the bags, sweetheart?" He asks, frowning as he looks over my attire, especially at the rather full backpack.

"Don't call me that." I say, firmly, my fists clenched.

"What are you talking about? Is something wrong?" Mom asks, looking concerned.

But it's all a scam, isn't it? The sick fuckers. I know as I look at them in this moment that they are exactly who I think they are. They are no parents of mine.

"Am I your daughter?" I ask bluntly, my voice quiet but steady.

"Of course, why would you think otherwise?" Mom asks, but she looks more panicked than concerned now. She knows that I'm onto them. _Good_.

"Let me think, oh yeah, it may have something to do with the missing persons websites, the articles under your bed, the fact that I look like that girl who went missing fourteen years ago, on the night her real family was murdered." I spit, unable to contain my emotions any longer.

I see my ' _Dad_ ' eye the large butcher knife on the counter to his left, but I already have the pistol out of my jeans, and I raise it so that it points in his direction. "Don't even think about it." I say, my eyes narrowed at the people in front of me, pretending for all these years to be my parents. How fucked up is that?

"You caught us," he admits, his eyes hardening almost instantly. "What a clever girl. It's a shame you won't be around to tell anyone." He reaches out for the knife and grabs ahold of it, and then begins to walk around the island counter to where I stand, the hand in which my gun is situated, shaking madly. This isn't going to end well.

"Fuck you, asshole." I say loudly, before pulling the trigger. As I had wanted it to, the bullet lodges itself into his shoulder, causing him to drop the knife. So I kick it away to the other side of the room and make a break for the front door, my heart pounding in my ears.

I fling open the heavy front door and sprint down the front path, but I hear her behind me, screaming my name, so I make a quick left to the Eaton's driveway, but there is no car. I hear footsteps behind me, so I jump up onto one of the wheelie trash cans beside their gate to the backyard, and jump over it, landing in a crouching position on the other side.

I hear her trying to push the bins out of the way, but I'm guessing she gave up or is trying to find another way into their backyard because the noise stops and I hear running footsteps that seem to go back to the house. Tears start to stain my cheeks as I sneak around the back of the house, and press my back against the glass sliding door, praying that she doesn't find a way in here - I'm not sure I can fight her off, and if she has that knife... I'm not trained with a gun and I could easily miss. It's too risky.

"Who the fuck is that in my backyard?" I freeze at the sound of a voice, and I see the backdoor open, and a flashlight beam focus on me. "Tris, is that you? What are you doing?"

 _Four_.

I run towards him and pull him back inside of his house, and yell at him to lock all the doors and windows. Doing as he's told, he looks at me like I've gone crazy.

"Tris, what is going on?" He asks me aggressively, obviously irritated that I'm in hiding out in his backyard, and now I'm ordering him around like this.

"My parents.. knife... gun- I can't, they.." I stammer, sweat beginning to mix with the silent tears that escape my eyes.

"Woah, slow down. It's okay, you're safe here. Just tell me what happened." Four says, his voice now beginning to soften, and now he just seems panicked.

"My parents aren't really my parents, okay, it's a long story, but they've flipped out and she's after me with a knife and I shot my so-called Dad, and I need to get out of here. Fast! You need to help me!" I say, now able to get out proper words, but it's hard to keep my voice steady.

He takes my wrist in his hand and pulls me out of his kitchen and up the staircase, and then into his room. Faster than the speed of light, he pulls out a duffel bag from his closet and starts stuffing clothes and stuff inside, hurriedly. "Shall I call then police?" He asks as he packs.

"There's no time! I have to get out of here now, but they're waiting for me out there I don't know how I'm going to get away- wait, what are you doing?" I finally start to really notice what he is packing. Clothes and necessities, like the stuff I have in my own backpack.

He grabs a gun out from his nightstand and holds it so tightly that his knuckles turn white. Either he doesn't notice or he doesn't care.

"What, you think I'm going to let you go alone?" He asks, harshly. "We'll get out of here together. You can't do this on your own, and I won't let you. If they have a knife, they could have gotten more in the time that you were in here."

"But what about your Dad?" I exclaim, appalled that he's even considering tagging along.

"He won't even notice I've gone, I need to get out of this shithole just as much as you do." He says, tossing his duffle bag over his shoulder.

"Four, I can't let you-"

"Tris," he says sternly, putting his hands on my shoulders and shaking me a little. "I'm coming with you."

 **-oo0oo-**

 **Authors Note:**

 **Ah! A new story for you guys! I'm so sorry for my account conduction lately, but I'm very happy with this storyline, so I hope you readers have high hopes for it too!**

 **The more reviews I get on my chapters, the faster I will update! So if you want to see more then please leave a review and let me know what you think of this first chapter.**

 **Also, my chapters will be a lot longer than this, but since this is sort of like the introduction/prologue I wanted to keep it shorter! :)**

 **-GuiltyMind**


	2. Chapter 2

**"Killing The Cliche"**

 **Rated T/M (sexual content, violence and language)**

 **Chapter 2 (Tris' POV)**

 **-oo0oo-**

"So, how are we going to do this?" I ask Four as we stand at his front door, preparing to make our escape.

We both have a gun clasped in our hand, but that doesn't do much to comfort me, and I have a growing feeling of anxiety in my chest, making it hard to breathe. I note that he looks as nervous as I feel, but he is trying to put on a strong front.

"Four, you don't have to come. This is my problem, not yours-"

"Geez, Tris, how many times?" He snaps. "I'm coming, and that's that, right?"

I'm not one hundred percent sure of his motives, but I'm not prepared to stand around and talk about it any longer than we already have. He seems dead-set on tagging alone for whatever reason, and I doubt I'll be able to change his mind.

"Okay, so we are going to stick to the wall of the house, where the porch lights don't reach. It's dark enough out there to hide us, just about. And then we'll sneak past the big hedge running along my driveway, and make a break for it across the street." He tells me, seemingly taking charge, but I'm not complaining. He has a better idea of it than I do, and considering I almost got stabbed on my way over here, I decide that I'll let him take the lead on this one.

"Stick by me," he says. "If you see either of them, keep running and let me know. If necessary, we'll have to shoot, but it's best to avoid that if possible. We'll get somewhere safe and calls the cops. The bus shelter a few blocks away is our best bet, so be prepared to do a good bit of running."

He opens up the front door by just a crack, and slowly opens it the rest of the way, holding his gun up the whole time. As he said, when we exit the house, we press up against the brickwork in the shadows, where the porch lights don't reach. I can't see anyone now, but only a few of the streetlights are actually working, and the rest of the space around us is encased in darkness. But that gives us an advantage too - they can't see us either.

We crouch and shimmy along beside the leafy hedge that separates his driveway from the person living on the other side. As we reach the end, he puts a finger to his lips and nods his head to the other side of the street, where there's an opening that leads into an alleyway, which is pitch black. I nod in understanding, and together we sprint across the street, making it onto the opposite sidewalk and then we dive into the dark alley without interruption or problem.

"D'you know where this opens out at?" I whisper as we blindly start to walk, the only light being the moonlight, and it's so dim that there might as well be nothing.

"It's a pretty long alleyway, I think, and I'm pretty sure it opens out at the North side of town.. so that's near the train station, which is where we could call the cops. We have to move quickly, though." He responds, his low voice brought down to a whisper too.

Eventually he unzips his duffle bag and pulls out a heavy flashlight, that thankfully gives us more than enough light to make out where we are going, and we speed up from walking to a fairly paced jog. It's important we get out of there fast; they could be following us, so getting to somewhere public and busy will hopefully be enough to scare them away.

He seems to be surprised that I can keep up with him easily, and that I'm not short of breath. But I've ran track for most of high-school, just not on the team, as my 'parents' thought it took away too much from the more educational groups I could be participating in.

I'm still not entirely sure why he is running alongside me right now - he could have stayed safe in his home, and sent me on my way. But I don't have much time to think about it because we're nearing the end of the alleyway, and I can see light up ahead.

"C'mon, it can't be far off now." He says as we reach the end, and are met with bright lights and fast-moving vehicles. Four was right - we have ended up North of our small town, and I can see the train station across the street, which explains the hefty amount of traffic in front of us too.

We pocket our guns, so we don't raise suspicion, and quickly make our way across to the station where we intend to call the cops and get the fuckers who called themselves my parents for fourteen years arrested.

The station isn't too busy, due to it being a while after rush hour, which means the people coming home from work have already left.

"Shit, my cellphone is dead," Four says as he attempts to switch it on. "You have yours, right?"

I nod and pull it out from my backpack, but before I can pull up the emergency dial pad, I receive a text from them.

 _Mom - Tris, get your ass back here right now. If you tell anybody about what's gone down tonight, we'll hunt down every single one of your friends. Don't underestimate us either, because we follow through with our promises, sweetheart._

"Fucking bastards." I mutter, thrusting my phone into Four's hand so he can read the message too, and his face quickly mirrors my angry expression. "They're right," I say, collapsing down onto a nearby bench. "We can't underestimate them. They've killed before, and they'll do it again."

He takes a seat beside me and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "So, do you want to actually let me in on what happened back there, or am I going to have to go back and ask them?"

So I tell him everything - about the articles, the bunny, the newspaper clippings hidden under their bed. And now I am saying it out loud, I realise just how fucked up this really is. When I'm finally finished talking, I expect him to get up and leave, calling me crazy or something. But he sighs and falls back against the bench, running a hand over his face.

"How are we going to get out of this one?" He says, more to himself than to me.

" _We_?" I echo. "Thanks for getting me out of there and everything, I owe you my life, really. But I can't let you come with me, not when I've got these psychos on my case. You didn't deserve to get dragged into this, y'know."

"If you say that one more time I may strangle you." He says through gritted teeth.

I frown and look away, perplexed at his behaviour. What is his problem? He was so determined to get me to safety, and was more than happy to help, but the whole time he's had some kind of hostile attitude towards me.

I don't think we've ever had one proper conversation, unless you count asking to borrow a pencil in an Art lesson or two, which I don't. But I'm not prepared to stand up to him or put him in his place; I sort of need him to get out of here. And I don't think he'll leave even if I try to force him.

"So.. what now?" I ask, timidly, afraid he'll go cold on me again.

"I don't know," he admits, sighing. "Catch a train somewhere, maybe? But whatever we do, we need to do it fast. These people mean business."

We quickly decide that taking a train out of this town will be our best option, to find some sort of help, or to just hide away so they can't find me. We hurry over to the information board, and I watch as Four runs his finger down the train timetable, looking worried. Then he stabs a line with his finger, suddenly smiling.

"It's okay, there's a train that leaves in ten minutes."

"Where to?"

"Golden Heights," he tells me. "I used to have family out there before they moved away, so I've taken the train there once or twice."

We walk deeper into the station and locate the ticket booths, where we purchase a one-way ticket to Golden Heights. Apparently it's a small town pretty much off the grid, so we should be safe there. I've never heard of it, but I have no choice but to trust him. What other option do I have?

"It's gonna be a long journey, let me go get pick up some stuff. Sit down, I'll be back in a minute." Four says as we turn away from the booth, tickets in hand. I tell him to be quick, and then situate myself on a nearby bench.

This is all so surreal, and I feel like I'm stuck in a nightmare, that I can't force myself to wake up from. Just in case, I pinch my arm, hard, confirming that this isn't a dream as I remain sitting on a cold bench in the middle of the train station, filled with dread.

"Ready?"

I turn to see Four stood behind me, his hands bearing two sandwiches, a bottled water and a couple candy bars, presumably to keep us going during the ride. I thank him quietly and we hurry towards our correct platform, only minutes to spare before it is supposed to arrive.

Once we're half way there, a crackled, muffled announcement comes over on the tannoy and I glance at the large clock to my left. "Shit, that's our train!" I exclaim, starting to sprint, with Four in hot pursuit.

We run for the ticket barriers, hurtle across the platform, a mudlle of backpack, pounding footsteps and panicked breathing. The guard bundles us into the last open doorway before slamming it shut behind us and blowing the whistle. We fall into the nearest empty seats, letting out sighs of relief. The train begins to pull out of the station, and I place my hand over my heart, which threatens to burst out of my chest.

"This is crazy." I pant, leaning my head back against the headrest on my seat.

"Yeah, crazy is one way to describe this." He agrees, shaking his head, and I don't think he's managed to get a grasp on what's actually happening; he seems calm right now, but when it sinks in I'm willing to bet he's going to have a panic attack or something. How he can just be so neutral about all this is beyond me, but I'd rather have someone calm to lean on, instead of someone full-out panicking - kind of like I am right now.

I curl into my seat, my knees pressed into my chest and my arms wrapped around my legs. I feel like I should say something, but decide against it, and watch everything go by out of the window beside me, though it is all encased in darkness.

My temple rests against the cool, hard glass and my eyes begin to droop, but I force myself to stay awake. I can't fall asleep now, because I'm still worried that we aren't really alone. I have this itching feeling on the back of my neck that somebody is watching us, and it's beginning to irritate me. Maybe it's just my imagination, but it's enough to cause that anxious feeling to arise again and put pressure on my chest.

Not even two hours ago none of this had happened, and I thought life couldn't be any better. I was planning my future, focusing on a History paper that was important then, but feels more than irrelevant now. I just can't believe I didn't figure all of this out sooner - that way, we could've avoided all this mess. Tears fill up my eyes but I blink them back, refusing myself the relief of crying - I have to be strong now.

"How long even is this journey?" I ask Four, not turning to look at him, though.

"Couple hours," he answers. "It's cool if you want to get some rest. I had a nap before all of this shit happened, and you need to sleep, Tris. I'll be awake, and you'll be okay."

"Promise me you'll wake me if anything happens." I say, warily.

"Promise."

After he utters that word, I allow my eyes to flutter closes, and proceed to let the rocking of the train lull me into a dreamless sleep.

The next time I open my eyes is because Four is shaking my shoulder and gathering up the stuff that he had unpacked during the journey. "C'mon, we're here." He tells me.

I grab my stuff too, and we head off the train with the other passengers, which are very few since the place we have decided to go to is so remote, and I'm guessing it's not exactly a popular tourist place. The station is much smaller, with only a few rails, a small ticket and concessions stand, and a couple wooden benches for waiting purposes.

We make our way towards the exit, and I glance at the large clock hung on the tiled wall to our right - midnight, almost. Despite only just being woken up, I feel like I have enough energy to push on.

"So.. where do we go from here?" I ask as we stand outside the station, the air now bearing a cold bite, which causes me to shiver a little.

"Well, there are a bunch of motels around here, but the nearest I think is opposite a diner a few blocks away. That's probably where we should head for now, and we can get some sleep and talk this all over in the morning." He responds as he zips up his sweatshirt to his chin, to protect himself from the cold.

I pull my own hoodie sleeves down a little so they cover my hands, which are sure to start shaking any minute now, and not just from the cold.

We turn left from the station, and start to walk along the long stretch of sidewalk, with houses dotted at the sides. The houses here aren't much to get excited about - mainly white structures, with wooden decks out front, and lots of plants surrounding the properties. They all look pretty much the same I notice as we keep walking. There's a church up ahead, and it kind of looks like the one in Rosewood. (I'm a huge pretty little liars fan, okay)

"So.. our Art project," Four says, clearing his throat. "I was thinking we could've done something surrounding the theme of freedom."

I look up at him, shocked. Is he seriously thinking about that right now? I'm pretty sure there are much bigger things to be worrying about. But then I realise that he is just trying to make conversation, one that isn't about the life or death situation we've been thrown into. He's trying to take my mind off it, and I appreciate that.

"That sounds good," I say. "We could do a person, wrapped up in the American flag - to represent the political struggle at the minute with the whole election thing - with angel wings growing out from their back?"

His teeth flash in the dark as he smiles. "Yeah, we'd totally get a good grade for that. But it's okay for you - you'd get a good grade if you just turned in a piece of toilet paper. The teacher loves you, and she hates me." He says.

"She only doesn't like you because of what you did a few months back with the paint," I point out, shaking my head. "You emptied the whole bottle onto Eric Coulter's head."

"I remember that." He chuckles.

So do I - I'm pretty sure the whole Art class remembers. Covered in paint and fuming with anger, Eric had flung himself at Four, and a fight broke out between the two. Four came out on top, but had no chance to make the most of his victory, because the both of them had been dragged out of the class to the principals office.

Word spread like wildfire, and Eric walked around with his head hung in shame for a good few weeks. A lot of the popular crowd wanted Four in their stupid posse, but he turned them down, of course. He doesn't do friends, apparently.

"I still don't understand why you did that." I say.

"He said stuff about my mom, asking questions about her, even though he knew perfectly well that she's dead." He says darkly, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. I offer a sad smile, unsure of how to respond. His mom died in childbirth a few years ago, and the infant died minutes after she did. So now it's just him and his Dad. It must've been tough on him, which explains why he is so private about everything.

"There's the diner," Four says, pointing in the direction of a building with its lights off, which means my hopes for a place for coffee open for twenty-four hours are crushed. "And that's the motel. Just across the street."

I look to where he says, and instantly catch a glimpse of the glowing motel sign, so we cross the street and make our way over to it, tiredly. We've been travelling for a while, and I'm tired even though I had a rather long nap on the train, so I can't imagine how exhausted Four must be feeling, even though he insists that he is fine.

We push open the door to the check-in office, to find a man sat behind the desk, staring at a blank computer screen, his earphones lodged into his ears. We stand before him, but he doesn't even look up at us, though I can tell that he knows we are there.

"Er.. hi?" I say, awkwardly. But I don't think he can hear us, due to the volume of his music. After a good minute of waiting, Four slams his fist down on to the desk, causing the man to finally look at us and pull out his earphones.

"What?" He asks, sighing.

"We need two rooms."

"Sorry, we only have one available right now - the others are all under maintenance." The man replies robotically, still looking bored as he addresses us.

Four glances at me, checking to see if I'm okay with that, and I have no choice but to nod; we need somewhere to stay now, and the thought of sleeping on a park bench doesn't sound too appealing. "One is fine." I say, nodding.

So the man - Harrison, his badge says - assigns us room 46, and we take the key and leave, ignoring his inaudible mutters behind us. We climb the steps that lead up to the third floor, and walk along the balcony stretch to find number 46.

Four unlocks the door with our key, and we step inside. It's a small space, with a double bed squeezed in, a tiny table and matched with two chairs in the corner, and a door that presumably leads to the bathroom. There's also a small lamp that rests on a small, wooden bedside table. We try the light switch, to find out that it's broken, but the lamp thankfully is. So that'll be out only light source for now.

"It's shittier than I remember, but it's okay, I guess." Four says, putting his duffel bag down besides the now closed door, and proceeds to lock it from the inside.

"It's better than nothing." I say, also taking off my backpack and putting it down on the edge of the double bed. Sleeping arrangements are going to be awkward, but I'm not going to complain - at least we have a bed to sleep on tonight.

"I'm going to take a quick shower, and then we can sort things through, okay?" He says, moving towards the bathroom. I nod and begin to unzip my backpack, and then pull out my laptop. I take it over to the small table and sit down, flipping open the lid and starting it up.

Clicking on my internet browser, I'm met with the article I was looking at before I left the house. I decide while Four is in the shower I'll do some more research. So I take a look at multiple articles, all of which give me new facts and information about what happened that night.

They went searching for me for weeks, months. They patrolled the woods, the valleys, the mountains - anywhere that I could be hidden away. But they have to give up in the end, but they hold regular searches every few months, for any sign of life. And with an interview with one of the cops in charge of that case, he stated that they could only presume that the girl is dead, and finding her remains will be very difficult, as the perpetrators have very high intelligence. Enough to get away with three accounts of murder, anyhow.

Everything is all starting to add up: the evasive answers when I asked about my past, my childhood, the lack of photos before my third birthday. I just shrugged it off, told myself there was a reason behind it all, and now I've found out that reason, and it is not what I was expecting. Everything they told me was a lie. I want to punch myself for not figuring this out sooner.

The door to the bathroom opens up and I turn to see Four, stood in the doorway, wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist. "Sorry - I forgot my stuff out here." He apologises, rubbing the back of his neck.

I try to look back at my computer screen, but it's hard not to watch as he walks by me to retrieve his duffel bag that he left at the door. He has a tattoo covering the entirety of his back - an eagle in flight, I think, it's wings spread out across his back. When he turns around, I snap my eyes away, hoping that he didn't catch me looking.

Thankfully, he gives me a nervous sort of smile and walks back into the bathroom, pushing the door closed behind him.

Five minutes later, he rejoins me in the main room and he sits in the chair next to me, looking at my laptop as I rake through all these different articles and newspaper reports. "This is intense," he mumbles, thoughtfully. "A lot of people are missing you in Chicago it seems, Tris."

"But we can't even go to the cops about this," I say, sighing. "They're obviously more than capable of killing people, and I know that they'll go through with whatever threats they make. It's too risky - I can't be responsible for even more deaths."

"We need to make a plan of action. But first, we need to assess how much money we have."

So we move my laptop away and empty out both of our wallets onto the round wooden table. I realise that I should've taken all of that money from the safe, instead of what I thought was my savings. I know I had more than this, and I'm guessing they took it all, but left enough so that I don't get suspicious. So all in all, I brought along $300 dollars, and Four brought about $150.

"It seems like a lot now, but we have to make all of this last," Four says, running a hand through his hair that is still damp from his shower. "Hopefully we'll be able to come up with some sort of solution to this mess before this all runs out, or we're going to have another problem."

"This is bad, huh?" I say, nibbling my bottom lip, anxiously.

"We can handle it," he assures me. "But we need to work together, ok?"

"I know I've told you a million times that you should've stayed behind but.. I'm kind of glad I'm not here alone, and that you're with me.." I say, but then regret that admission; I do wish he had stayed at home, but I really didn't want him to know that I'm glad he was pushy and insisted to come along.

"Hey, what are Art Partners for, eh?" He chuckles, but then his face turns serious again. "Er.. about the sleeping stuff.. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, I could always sleep in the bathtub-"

"You are _not_ sleeping in a bathtub, Four," I say, shaking my head. "We don't have much choice but to share, do we? It's fine.. a little awkward, sure, but we both need a good sleep. And you won't get that in a bathtub."

"Okay, well do you need help with anything before I go to sleep?"

"No, I'm fine. You just go get some rest, okay?" I say, nudging him towards the bed with my elbow. He nods and gives me the smallest of smiles, and then makes his way over to the double bed.

I put all of the money away in his wallet, as it is bigger than mine, and stash it away in his duffle before going back to my laptop. Unable to look at anymore stuff on the night I got taken, I pull up my History paper document and continue to write.

It's stupid, doing homework at a time like this, but it's a good distraction. And since I don't have much more to focus on, it's my best option.

I decide to change into my pyjamas about fifteen minutes into writing, so I grab my backpack and head into the bathroom as quietly as I can, so I don't wake Four. I change out of my sweaty, crumpled clothes and exchange them for a loose black T-shirt, and a pair of tartan-printed shorts. I wish I had brought something longer, and not as revealing, but there's not much I can do about it now. I let my hair down out of it's high ponytail and brush it out with my fingers.

Then I leave the bathroom and put my bag in the corner with Four's but keep my pistol on the table beside me. I go back to writing my paper, and the sound of a sudden rain storm outside is accompanied by the sound of Four's soft snoring.

It's weird to be here with him; before today, we had barely even spoken. Sure, we have had the odd conversation, but nothing too in depth. I admired his good looks just as all the other girls did, but I never initiated any kind of friendship with him - nobody did, he scared most of the students with his icy glare and cold expression. I feel wary around him still, but I think I can trust him; he got me out of there safely, after all.

I wonder what's going to happen at school tomorrow when I don't show up, with no reason as to why. But I'm sure my 'parents' will come up with some sort of excuse - severe case of the flu, perhaps. Whatever it is, I'm sure they'll get away with it too. After all, they've clearly become sensational liars, after having so much practice over the years. And maybe even before.

I don't know what they've done - nobody does. For all I know, they could be the most wanted serial killers in all of America, but it's impossible to catch them, because no one knows who they are.

I manage to finish off my paper, with a total of five thousand words. I close down my laptop and tuck it away out of sight, and then slowly tiptoe my way over to the double bed, where Four is sleeping on his back. One arm is behind his head, and the other is over his stomach. The blankets reach his waist, and his top half is covered up with a thin grey shirt.

Hesitantly, I pull the covers away from the other side of the bed and lie down, covering myself up with the scratchy blanket to my chest.

I've rarely shared a room with anyone, let alone a bed. Especially with a guy. And the sound of his steady breathing is rather intimidating, and I feel myself growing more and more anxious by the minute. What if I start snoring really loudly? Or talk in my sleep? Talk about embarrassing.

I turn on my side, so I have my back to him and tuck my gun under my pillow. I let my eyes flutter closed, and allow myself to be lulled to sleep by the sound of the rain and Four's breathing from beside me.

I don't know what tomorrow will hold, but like he said, we'll get through it together.

 **-oo0oo-**

 **Authors Note:**

 **Hey guys! Sorry for the slow update, but I've been really busy. I know this chapter is kind of short, but I will be making them much longer soon, but the first few will be shorter as they are kind of like the introductory chapters.**

 **Thank you for all the follows and favourites and reviews you guys have given me! I really appreciate all the support, and on the first chapter too! I hope you guys are excited as I am for more upcoming chapters! Remember to leave a review and let me know what you think!**

 **\- GuiltyMind**


	3. Chapter 3

**"Killing The Cliche"**

 **Rated T/M (sexual content, violence and language)**

 **Chapter 3 (Tris' POV)**

 **-oo0oo-**

Running.

That's what we've been doing for the past twenty minutes, too afraid to stop or to look back - who knows what would happen or what we would see. I don't even think I want to know.

I was so stupid to think that we could just get away so easily. I should've seen this coming. But I never even thought about it until now. And that was my biggest mistake.

"Where are we going?" I ask Four as I run alongside him, nearly breathless.

"Anywhere." He responds urgently, before pulling me away from the small street we are situated on, and into a cluster of small hedges. There's a small gap in the wooden fencing behind us so we duck underneath it and continue to run again, but this time it's across grass, and not sidewalk.

There's pretty much no light around us, so I have no idea where we are, and I don't think Four does either. So we stumble through the darkness, keeping up a good pace, still refusing to slow down for anyone or anything.

I feel cool fingers interlock with my own after a moment, tugging me forward. His hand is strong and cold, and large enough so that my hand slips in his comfortably.

Eventually we reach what I think is a brick wall, and I can tell because I ran straight into the god damn thing. I stumble backwards, a sharp pain stabbing at my nose, and I feel something warm splash against my face. Presumably blood. But I'm so full of adrenaline that I can't feel it so much, so I wipe the general area with the sleeve of my sweatshirt and ignore it.

That's the least of our worries right now.

"I'm going to see if I have a torch in this duffle bag. I'm sure I shoved one in." Four says, and he releases my hand to fish through the bag we quickly packed. Luckily, he lets out a tiny whoop of victory and then a beam of light breaks through the thick darkness that surrounds us. We didn't have much time to stop and pull that out whilst we were running, but at least we have it now.

He swings the duffle bag back over his shoulder and then straightens up, shining the torch beam in my direction, but avoiding my eyes as not to blind me.

"Shit, Tris, what happened to your nose?!" He exclaims as he catches sight of what I'm guessing to be a very bloody wound in the middle of my face.

"It's nothing, we need to keep moving." I assure him, wiping at it again with my sleeve. He seems hesitant but agrees, and we move back towards the brick wall that I ran into. It turns out it's just a large bridge that goes over a small river stream, with slanted stone on either side.

"We may just have to stay here for now," Four says. "We have no other option, not until daylight hits, anyway. We have blankets in the bag..."

"If it's safer here, then this is where we need to be. One night won't be too bad." I say, trying to be optimistic, but my voice is dead flat, giving myself away. This is my fault, anyway. We wouldn't even be in this mess if I had just thought to check my phone, my laptop, anything that could link me to them. But how was I to know that they had every electronic device I own chipped? They tracked us down because of my own ignorance.

Four takes the flashlight and ducks under the bridge, and I follow in pursuit, trying not to run into anything else. He stops as we reach the middle of the bridge, where we are pretty well concealed from either side, and there's a flat patch of stone for us to sit down on.

"Let me take a look at the nose, Tris." Four says as soon as we sit, and he turns the flashlight beam onto my face, once again avoiding my eyes. Admittedly, it's beginning to fucking hurt now, but I put on a brave face and try to tell him that I'm fine. But he sees right through me.

"Tris." He says firmly, cupping my face in his hand and turning it towards him so he can see it a little better, and I hear him inhale through his teeth. "We need to get that cleaned up."

Reluctantly, I shuffle down to the small stream a few feet away from us, and sit patiently as Four soaks an old T-shirt. He holds it up to my nose and begins to dab gently, wiping away the blood that has increased by the minute, and is now dripping down from my chin and staining my lips.

"I don't have any ice to put on it, so I think we'll just have to apply pressure and clean it regularly so it doesn't get infected." He says, more to himself than to me. I don't mind, though, I'm just happy that he knows what to do - I would've just wiped it again with something and pushed the pain aside. Which, now thinking about it, isn't a good idea at all.

"I'm scared," I whisper, letting my eyes flutter closed as he continues to clean up my face with the soaked-through cotton shirt. "What if they never stop coming after us? We can't run forever, you know."

"We're going to get through this. None of this will last forever. It's okay to be scared. Everyone gets scared. But it's how you choose to deal with that fear that matters most." He tells me, his voice steady and certain, but in no way condescending like I had feared it would be. I've always figured that fear makes you weak, and that strength comes from being fearless.. but maybe that's not how it goes, after all.

We sit in a comfortable silence after that, the sound of the running stream surrounding us completely. It takes a while to clean up my bloody face, as the fresh stuff just keeps on coming, and stopping it evidently proves to be more difficult than he had thought it to be. He tears a piece of fabric away from the bottom of his shirt and scrunches it up and presses it to my nose, instructing me to keep it there to stop the flow, now that most of it has been scrubbed away from my skin.

We shuffle back up to the body of the bridge, where it's colder and more uncomfortable, but it's too dangerous to sleep besides the river in case we roll into it in our sleep. Yeah, not good.

Four pulls out the thin fleece blanket we grabbed from the motel room and holds it in his hands for a moment, unsure of how to cover us both up without it being very awkward. But I'd rather it be awkward, than have us both freeze to death.

So I shuffle closer so our shoulders are pressed together, hopefully encouraging him to just put it over the both of us, which he does. Thankfully the blanket itself is pretty big, and manages to cover us both easily, which is saying a lot, considering Four's height and all.

My exhale is visible due to the freezing cold air, and comes out in a puff of white. I'm wearing only a pair of thin leggings, a t-shirt, and a hooded sweatshirt over that, and I'm beginning to shiver violently.

"What if they find us here?" I ask Four, my hands shaking even from where they are hidden away in my pockets. "What if we are sleeping when they find us, and then that's it. We're gone."

"We can't think like that. This is the last place they'd look. We just have to lay low for a while, giving us a chance to come up with some kind of plan. If we're going to go anywhere, it has to be in daylight and we have to stick to public areas - I don't think they'd risk attacking us around a bunch of people." He says, attempting to stay optimistic, but I'm too tired and too grouchy to think about anything other than how shitty this is.

There is nothing to do now but wait until daylight appears.

Ice runs through my veins and my feet are numb, from both the cold and all the running. Now that the adrenaline has disappeared, I can now feel most of my body, and I know that my shins are bruised and bleeding, the skin torn away. I don't even care.

You're supposed to huddle close in situations like this, like Arctic explorers are told to do when a blizzard hits - to conserve body heat. Which is why I'm only a little surprised when Four wraps his arms around me, pulling me close to his sweater-clad chest. Hesitantly, I let my cheek press up against his strong shoulder and relax.

"Is this okay?" He whispers, his mouth very close to my ear. So close that a shiver runs down my spine, but luckily he should just interpret that as a reaction to the cold. I can't bring myself to give him a verbal response, so I just nod my head and he gets the message.

I should be nervous sitting this close to a guy, but I'm not. I don't if it's due to the situation we've been forced into, or simply because this is Four. Yesterday I would've told you that I don't trust him, but in a short amount of time I've learnt to.

I'd be lying if I said I never looked at him when we were in school. If we happened to pass each other in the corridors, when he was distracted with his work in Art class. But all the girls watched him. I admired his good looks and moved on. I would've never imagined we would be here right now, huddled together under a bridge in the dead of night, scared for our lives.

It's like something out of a movie, and I'm still having trouble processing that this is real, and isn't just a dream. I wish I could say that I want to go home.. but I'm not entirely sure where home is anymore.

"Why did you never talk with people in school?" I ask suddenly, wanting to spark up some kind of conversation - if I sit here lost in my thoughts for one more minute I may just explode.

"I just prefer to keep to myself; it's easier that way. No complications. I just didn't feel the need to surround myself with people. Besides, there was barely any people worth getting to know."

"Not even Lauren Walker?" I tease half heartedly.

" _Definitely_ not her," he says, firmly. "I like to go it alone, make my own decisions, y'know?"

"Doesn't it ever get lonely?"

"Just because I'm alone doesn't mean I'm lonely. I have nobody to cause drama, nobody to hold me back, to tell me what to do.. it just always seemed more appealing than having a trillion friends that could just stab you in the back anytime." He explains, and I feel him shrug lightly.

"Makes sense." I admit.

"Well, what about you?" He questions. "You always seemed to be with a friend or two. You hung around with Piper Lawrence, right?"

"Yeah.. I never really fit in with that lot, though. They partied every weekend and smoked weed and got drunk. And, well, that's not really my scene."

"I figured as much. I never really understood why you stuck by them either." He agrees.

Over the next hour, we continue to talk about random things - anything that comes up in conversation, really. He helps clean my nose up a few times, but it's not long until I find my eyes getting droopy, and that heavy weight of exhaustion settle on my chest.

I let my head fall into the crook of his neck, too sleep to find a position that might not make him feel awkward. But thankfully he doesn't seem to mind, and I hear him whisper words of encouragement to sleep when my eyes close for good.

They open again a few hours later, now that the dawn light is seeping down under the bridge, yellow tinged with pink. Four's arms are still around me and his head his heavy on my shoulder, the two of us wrapped in the blanket we stole from the motel.

I gently shake Four awake, knowing that we have to go now, while we have the chance. "C'mon, it's morning - we need to go."

As if he hasn't just woken up, he jumps up to his feet and stuffs the blanket and stray flashlight into the duffle bag he grabbed last night. Together we crawl from out under the bridge, uneasy and unsure. We stand in a large grassy field, that's bursting with wild flowers. But there's no sign of life for miles.

"Maybe we should go back the way we came?" I suggest, though I'm not exactly sure where that is seeing as it was pitch black when we were running.

"I recognise this area, I'm sure I've walked through before - that bridge is familiar enough." Four says, furrowing his eyebrows as he tries to remember. But after he meets a dead end we just decide to guess which way we came and head back in that direction, in hopes that we can make it back to civilisation without having to spend anymore time out here with no proper supplies.

After a good way of walking, we finally stumble across a middle-aged couple walking their German Shepard, who kindly direct us back to the main village, where they came from. We run the rest of the way, eager to get to someplace that we can stay hidden for good this time. Now that we threw away my laptop and cellphone, there's no way they can track us. Unless they got a chip put into my neck, which is unlikely since I would've remembered something like that, surely.

We dart into the nearest place we see, which is some kind of cafe that has just opened. It's very secluded, and I don't see any risk of us staying here for something hot to drink so Four grabs a table and I go over and order two cups of coffee from the kind-faced lady behind the counter. Since we are the only customers the drinks are ready within a minute or two, and I take them over to the table Four picked out in the corner, hidden from the large window that looks out on to the street.

"So, where do we go from here?" I ask after I take the first sip of my deliciously warm coffee. After a very long night I've sleeping out in the freezing cold, this is exactly what I need to make me feel better.

"Well, I'm thinking we catch a train somewhere more public, so that there are less opportunities for us to be caught - I doubt they'd risk trying to catch us out in the open with a lot of people around." He says, cradling his mug in his hands, chewing on his lower lip as he thinks - a habit that we evidently share.

"We could try Miami?" I suggest.

"That's not such a bad idea," he agrees, nodding along. "They have better places to stay, but we'd have to go under different names; they could easily hack into the computer systems there. The security in most hotels these days sucks - it doesn't take a genius hacker to get into their system."

"And how would you know that?"

"Come on, I had to find something to do, you know, outside of _not_ doing my homework and such." He says, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I think that sounds like a good plan, but we can't stay there forever. We need to think about telling the police.. and the consequences that come with it." I say, lowering my voice so the waitress cleaning a table a few metres away can't overhear our conversation.

We finish off our coffee in pretty much silence, both of us seemingly deep in thought. But we can't stay here forever, so eventually we pay for our drinks and leave.

Getting to the train station is the most nerve wracking thing I've ever done; who knows where they are now - my supposed parents, I mean.

They managed to track us down here yesterday, to the very motel we were staying at too. Luckily, I was glancing out of the window just in time to see them coming across the parking lot, trying to blend into the shadows. We didn't have much time to do anything other than pack as much as we could in a limited amount of time. Then we made a break for it, but used the emergency stairs around back to reach the ground level. And for all we know, they could still be here, waiting for us around a corner...

But we manage to make it into the somewhat busy station and grab tickets for the closest train to Miami. We have a half an hour gap before the train is due, so we take this time to separately go into the bathrooms to freshen up (well, as much as you can do in train station bathrooms.)

This is the first time I actually get a look at my injured nose, and I wince at the sight of it. It's been hurting like a bitch since we woke up this morning, but I haven't said anything - there's nothing to be done. I splash my face with cold water and dab at my nose with a piece of tissue that I dampened under the faucet. I get rid of most of the dried-up blood, only to reveal a dark, nasty bruise that's starting to appear. _Great_.

I comb my fingers through my hair in attempt to eradicate all the knots, and then throw it all up into a messy bun, not caring in the slightest about how ratchet I may look. It's not like I know anybody around these parts, anyhow. And even if I did, I have bigger things to worry about than my appearance.

I emerge from the bathroom after about fifteen minutes, and find Four sat on a nearby bench, retying the shoelace of his left sneaker. I take a seat beside him and drag up a smile.

"You're nose looks a little better. It'll definitely look battered up for a few days, though." He says as he straightens up and looks over at me, his eyes scanning my injury.

I shrug and pull my legs up onto the bench, crossing them so I'm more comfortable. The sleeve of my sweatshirt is caked with dried blood from where I was dabbing at it last night, so I aimlessly pick it away with my nails and look around the platform of which we are situated on, awaiting our train.

There is a man stood a few metres away, anxiously tapping his foot against the concrete, and checks his watch every ten seconds, at least. His suit is smart, possibly designer, along with his shoes and briefcase. He looks to me like a lawyer, and this is confirmed when he pulls a pen out of the pocket of his blazer to jot something down on the back of his hand - the pen is too fancy for your average business man, and I'm willing to bet it has the firm he works for printed onto the side.

I'm good at observing people, guessing their lives and such. It's fun, attempting to figure people out like that.

But it's funny how I can work out every person in this station apart from Four - I'm not quite sure what to make of him. I definitely have strong feelings for him, but I just haven't decided if they're positive or negative yet. A part of me still sees him as that cold, unfeeling person who I could only watch from a distance, but things are different now, and another part of me sees him as a troubled, hurt person who doesn't know what to do but shut people out. And he has a sweet side, that much is clear.

But I feel like there's still so much to learn about him. I'm willing to bet that it'll take me a long time to figure him out, if I'm ever able to at all.

"Hey, d'you wanna listen with me?" I'm broken out of my thoughts by Four's words and his elbow gently nudging my side. I turn to see him holding up his iPod and a pair of earphones in question, and I nod, a ghost of a smile landing on my lips.

I slip an earphone in and I'm met with the sound of _Shattered_ by Trading Yesterday. "Not bad music taste, Eaton," I say, giving him an impressed smile. "Not bad at all."

Whenever I've seen him outside school he's always got a pair of earphones in, and a lot of the time in school too now that I think about it. I'm pleased that he's got a similar taste in music to me, because I'm always forced to listen to today's hits - some are good, admittedly, but most of it definitely leaves something to be desired. Music is what gives me clarity, even on the maddest of days. It calms me down when my anxiety levels rage out of control.

"You a fan of Queen?" He asks, looking to me for an answer.

"Ever since I can remember," I tell him. "Bohemian Rhapsody definitely has to be my favourite, but Don't Stop Me Now is a close second."

"I'm impressed - not many people have much respect for Queen nowadays."

"Tell me about it." I laugh, rolling my eyes.

And as we continue to listen to the playlist shuffling on Four's iPod, I have a short but pleasurable moment of happiness. Suddenly, everything around me seems to fade away and I'm light and free and just happy. But that moment ends just as quickly as it came, and now I've crashed back down to earth.

And its safe to say that it's very, _very_ shitty.

 **-oo0oo-**

 **Authors Note:**

 **Hey guys! Sorry for the super slow update, I've been really sick these past few days. And even now it's a shorter chapter than usual, but I really wanted to get up a new chapter for all my readers :)**

 **A lot more FourTris development in this chapter, but I kind of want to make this a semi slow-burn, but idk. Leave me some reviews to let me know what you guys think so far!**

 **\- GuiltyMind**


	4. Chapter 4

**"Killing The Cliche"**

 **Rated T/M (sexual content, violence and language)**

 **Chapter 4 (Four's POV)**

 **-oo0oo-**

"Face it, Four - we're lost." Tris says, running a hand through her hair in frustration.

We've been wandering around the streets of Miami for at least an hour, but are yet to locate any kind of hotel. I've never been to this city, so it's all unfamiliar to me.

"No, there must be somewhere we can crash around here." I say determinedly, but she and I both know that's probably not true. We've managed to stray from the main busy streets, and have now ended up in a regular-looking neighbour hood. There's no hotels around here, that much I am certain of.

We carry on walking for a while, but all there seems to be is houses every where we turn. It's helpless, and Tris is right - we're officially lost.

But a few houses up there's some kind of party going on, and even with my lack of experience when it comes to that stuff, even I can tell it's getting wild. People are milling around in the front yard, drinking and shouting and making out.

There's even a small group lingering at the gate, smoking what appears to be weed, considering you can smell the stuff from here. Marcus went through a phase where he would constantly have a joint in his hand, so I've become very familiar to its scent.

"Hey, are you guys here for the party?"

Seemingly out of nowhere, a girl staggers toward us with a bright smile, and she throws an arm around Tris's shoulder, as if they're old friends. She has a caramel skin tone, with raven hair and even darker eyes. She is somewhat dressed in a cat costume, but she isn't wearing much. Just a short black, skin-tight dress and a pair of cat ears that have been lazily slid onto her head. So I'm guessing this is a costume party.

"What have you guys come dressed as?" She asks, scanning both of our attire with her eyes - the muddy jackets and ripped jeans, as well as the nasty wound on Tris's nose. "Zombie Apocalypse survivors?" She then guesses, giggling a little too hysterically, due to the alcohol she has so obviously consumed.

Tris goes to open her mouth to tell her that we aren't here for the party, but I discreetly shake my head, and she frowns at me, puzzled. "Yeah, we just got here a little late. Traffic in the city." I lie, plastering a smile onto my face.

"Great! I'll see you in there," she slurs, grinning. "You're pretty, by the way. He's a lucky guy." She then says to Tris, in a very loud whisper, and then makes her way back towards the crowded house.

I notice a splash of pink stain Tris's cheeks, but I'm not sure if it's because of the compliment, or the fact that girl presumed us to be dating.

"Hey, give me your hoodie and put something darker on - it'll look more like a costume." I say, gesturing towards her light grey sweatshirt.

"But why are we going in there? We weren't invited, we don't know these people! And don't you think we have more important things to be doing, like finding somewhere to stay? I don't want to have to sleep under a bridge again."

"If your creepy-ass 'parents' have followed us, this is a good way to lose them," I explain. "And if we want to stay here for longer than we did in Golden Heights, we need to make sure we look as if we belong here, even if we don't."

So she removes her grey sweatshirt and I hand over the darkest thing in the duffle bag I have - my black zip-up jacket. Hesitantly, she slips her arms in and zips it right up to her chin. She is pretty much drowning in the fabric, considering how small she is, but she looks kind of.. _cute_? Is that the right word? I don't know, but I shouldn't even be thinking stuff like that. Not now. Not ever.

She puts up the hood and I do the same with my own navy jacket, and we head over to the house - intending to use the costume idea the drunk girl had given us a few minutes ago, in case anybody asks.

"Stick by me, okay?" I tell Tris as we pick our way through the front yard. She looks up at me and nods silently, giving me the faintest of smiles.

Music echoes around the house, and almost deafens me the minute I step inside. The front entrance is crowded with people, generally around our age, I think. They all cradle red cups full of what I'm guessing to be spirits, and are laughing and dancing together.

I've only ever been to one party, and I went straight back to my house five minutes after arriving. This kind of stuff just isn't my scene, and I don't think it's Tris's either - she just doesn't strike me as a party girl, which always confused me, seeing as she was part of the party crowd at our school.

We weave through people until we reach the kitchen, which thankfully is less crowded than any of the other rooms in this random persons house.

"It'd probably be best to steer clear of the alcohol, don't you think?" Tris asks me over the noise of the music and I nod my head in agreeement. I'd like to spend the night figuring stuff out with a clear head, rather than a fuzzy one.

So we both grab a soda from the stack of drinks in the corner and head out into the backyard where it's quieter. We find a bench in the very back of the yard, and take a seat, avoiding the crowds indoors.

"I feel bad walking in like this, I mean, we aren't even from around here!" Tris says, nibbling on her thumbnail anxiously.

"Chill," I say, bumping her with my shoulder. "We're just going to hang out here for an hour and then go back to finding a hotel or something - if those psychos did follow us, this is the last place they'll look. Especially as it's full of teenagers and they wouldn't even get past the front door without being questioned."

"We need to make a real plan, we can't go on like this forever."

"I know," I say, furrowing my brow. "We need to somehow involve the police, I mean, they can't hurt us if the authorities are aware. They'll put us under maximum-protection, right?"

"But it's not just us we need to worry about. They threatened to kill all my friends," she says, shaking her head. "And although I wasn't really friends with any of them, I can't be held responsible for their deaths. I just can't..."

"Hopefully it won't come to that. But let's talk about this someplace else.. somewhere more private, perhaps?"

Obviously still nervous, she agrees and we sit in silence for a few minutes, simply listening to the music that is flooding out of the patio doors.

I don't even know how we got here, not really.

It's evident that Tris is still wary around me, and I can understand that much - before now, we'd barely spoken two words to each other. Up until now, we were simply neighbours. Nothing more, nothing less. I don't think I could consider her a friend.. I don't have any friends, and that's the way I like it. But she's the closest I've ever gotten to a friend.

I came along because I couldn't let her go alone. Not that I think she couldn't protect herself, of course she could. But what kind of person would I be if I just let her go alone like that? And despite the danger we've found ourselves in, I've gotten away from Marcus, which means I have escaped another kind of danger. He won't even care that I've gone. If he even notices, that is.

"Hey, I'm just going to go find a bathroom. I didn't want to use the ones at the station because.. well, you get it." Tris says, breaking me out of my thoughts. She stands and leaves her soda can in her seat before making her way back towards the house.

I'm a little reluctant to let her go alone, especially in a party like this where they could be hiding in disguise or some shit, but I'm not going to follow her to the bathroom - it'd be inappropriate, really. I don't want her to feel uncomfortable around me, because we're going to have to spend a lot of time together if we can't find a way out of this mess.

I sit back on the bench and tilt my face upward so I am looking at the sky, which is sprinkled with stars. I just hope we won't have to sleep under that view like we did last night.

Tris returns to my side pretty quickly, and we decide to wander close to the house so we don't look like total anti-social weirdos. I notice a few girls on the patio eye me up a couple times, so I make sure to put on my most intimidating look. This seems to scare them off a little and they turn their attention back to the drinking game they were participating in.

"Stop doing that," Tris says, elbowing me in my side. "We're supposed to be blending in, and you look like you're about to rip someone's head off."

I roll my eyes but let my face soften a little - she's right, I don't want to draw any attention to us unless neccesary.

I let her lead me through the open patio doors, through the kitchen, past the crowded living room and towards the large staircase. We take a seat at the top, looking down onto the entrance hall. There's a couple making out at the foot of the stairs, and I can hear thumping and moaning coming from a nearby room upstairs - and it's not hard to guess what's going on in there.

"Charming." Tris mutters, having heard the noise too. I can't help but let out a small chuckle, shaking my head. Is this what happens at all parties, or just this one? As if reading my mind, Tris says, "Yeah, that happens a lot. You get used to it eventually."

Something in my stomach pulls taut and I worry my bottom lip with my teeth. Has Tris ever been in one of those situations? With some random, drunk guy at one of the many parties her friends dragged her along to? I know it's none of my business, but I can't help but wonder. I've heard the guys at school brag about it in the locker rooms plenty - boasting about all the girls they hooked up with at these 'wild parties' at the weekend.

I just hope Tris wasn't one of those girls.. and I'm not sure why I'm so bothered in the first place. It's not like it's got anything to do with me, anyway.

I'm broken out of my thoughts when the door to the room that contained the moaning swings open, and that same girl from the street stumbles out, her heels in her hands and lipstick smeared across her mouth. A boy follows closely behind, buckling up his belt and attempting to straighten his shirt.

"Oh, hey again." She slurs as she catches sight of us at the top of the staircase, watching on in amusement.

"Hi." Tris replies with a tight-lipped smile, and I can tell she feels as awkward and uncomfortable as I do.

Before any of us can converse any longer, the song changes and a familiar Snakehips remix starts to play, which causes the girl to grin happily. "This is my song!" She exclaims, passing us as she descends the stairs, clinging onto the rail for balance. The guy she was with leans against a nearby wall and looks at us - at Tris, actually.

"Is there anything we can help you with?" I snap, straightening up a little. I don't like the look of this guy. Tattoos run up and down his forearms, and he has a piercing in his left eyebrow. But that's not what makes me dislike him - it's that creepy fucking smile stretching at his lips.

"Nope." he says, shaking his head before straightening up and walking past us to go down the staircase. But as he does go by us, I don't miss the comment he made about showing Tris a good time, but he's gone before either of us can respond.

"What a jerk." She says, her nose scrunching up a little in disgust, but then she winces in pain, due to her injury. It looks a little better, but it'll be bruised black and blue for a while.

"Want another drink?" I ask, shaking my now empty soda can. She finishes off her own lemonade and nods her head, smiling a little. So I leave her at the top of the staircase and weave my way into the kitchen where the drinks are.

"Hey, where's your girlfriend gone?"

I turn to see the girl from the street again, cradling yet another drink.

"She's not my girlfriend, and she's upstairs." I say as I move around her to reach the refrigerator.

"I'm Christina, by the way."

"I'm Tom," I lie. "And the girl I'm here with is Alice."

"Well, Tom, seeing as Alice isn't your girlfriend, I'm sure she won't mind if we have a quick dance!" Before I can protest, she grabs my hand and pulls me out of the kitchen and into the living room where the majority of the people are. I try and wrestle my arm free, but she has a surprisingly strong grip.

"C'mon, lighten up! Just one dance?" She says, giving me what I think is her attempt at a pout.

"No, I need to get back." I decline, shaking her hand away from my bicep. I don't want to leave Tris alone for longer than neccesary; we know nobody at this party, and her fake parents could be anywhere.

"Why?" Christina wants to know, putting a hand on her hip. "Your friend is over there, chill out."

I look in the direction that she is pointing, confused, until I see Tris leant against the doorframe, her eyes narrowed as she watches our interaction. I don't know what she's feeling, but she doesn't look too impressed for whatever reason. I move away from Christina and luckily she gets distracted and doesn't try to follow me.

"I didn't know we were here to make new.. _friends_." Tris says as I get close enough to hear her, and she spins on her heel and walks back towards the stairs where we were previously sat.

"She practically assaulted me to get me in the middle of that crowd, trust me. And what does it matter? It's a good cover-up." I say, my eyebrows knitted together. Why is she so annoyed about it? Does she think we're going to get our covers blown?

"I just think we should get going now - we've been here long enough! We need to find someplace to stay, rather than hanging around here." She snaps, but then her face softens a little. "I just want to get out of here."

"How about I take you home?" The creepy guy from upstairs seems to appear out of nowhere, slipping his arm around Tris's shoulders and keeping a firm grip on her. "I have a car outside, maybe you could come back to my place for the night.."

"I'd rather sleep in the gutter." She spits, attempting to wriggle away from him, but he refuses to let her go anywhere.

I interlock my fingers with hers and pull her towards me and away from this guy, my eyes narrowed. I don't like the way he is looking at her - like she's a piece of meat. But.. I'd feel that way if it were any other girl too. They shouldn't be treated that way, but Tris is my.. _friend_ , and I won't let him talk to her like that.

There, I said it. If you'd asked me a few days ago I would've told you that Tris Prior and I were as far away from being friends as you could get. But I'm learning to trust her, and I can see a friendship in her.

"Woah, sorry is this your girl?" He asks me, glancing between the two of us as he tries to make that connection. "No, a girl like her doesn't settle for one guy. She looks like she's one to sleep around a little, am I right-"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence, because my fist collides with his jaw, and then it all goes by in a blur. My blood is replaced with rage that burns my insides. My father would call my mom a slag and a slut regularly, and I can see Marcus in this guy. He'll be just as abusive and disgusting. And he needs to be put in his place.

I'm so numb that I don't feel where my fist hits him, but I know I did hurt him judging by the groans following every swing. At this point there's a large crowd surrounding us, chanting and laughing. I let out all my anger that's been building up these past couple days, not caring how badly he gets hurt.

But I feel a small hand wrap around my fist as I draw it back to deliver another blow. Then I'm looking into a pair of large grey eyes that burn with intensity, and my arm goes limp. "Stop." Tris says softly but steadily, keeping her fingers wrapped around my hand.

I step back from the guy I was fighting, who is slumped on the ground, cupping his nose with his hand, but I see scarlet blood running through his fingers, dripping onto the carpet. I realise that I did this. My hands shake and my breathing has become laboured. In all that anger I didn't care about what I was doing or who I was hurting.

I was just like _him_.

But I don't have much time to dwell on that idea because there's the noise of sirens approaching, and everybody's running for the door.

"A neighbour called the cops! Scatter!" Somebody yells.

I grab Tris's hand and pull her out of the patio doors out back, and run towards the edge of the backyard. We stand on a stone bird table in order to get the height we need to hop over the fence, and land on the sidewalk the other side. We continue to run away from the house with a bunch of other drunk people who stumble and stagger their way across the street.

I throw my hood up and Tris copies me, and we slink away into the shadows. At first I debated going out to the cops and informing them of our situation, but I remember the text Tris got sent - everyone she knew would suffer. We have to think about this really carefully before we do anything that involves the authorities.

We run for a while, away from the housing estate and the neighbour hood, and towards the main streets. After at least twenty minutes of searching, we come across a decent-looking Motel, with a few cars in the lot.

"One room or two?" I ask Tris as we approach the main office.

"D'you really think it's a good idea for us to be apart?" She asks, raising an eyebrow.

So we book one room, and make sure to use a different name - Tom and Alice Brown, is what we are registered as now. This way the fake parents cannot track us down that way, or with their stupid tracking devices as we destroyed them all. The room itself is pretty nice, considering it's a motel. Much better than the one in Golden Heights, that's for sure.

"Sit," Tris says, pushing me gently down onto the edge of the double bed. "We need to clean up those hands."

As she disappears into the connecting bathroom, I shrug off my hoodie and take a closer look at my bruised and split knuckles. Blood is crusted to my skin, and now my adrenaline has dipped, there's a harsh ache there that makes me hiss in pain. But this is nothing compared to what I've had to endure many times before.

She returns a few moments later with a rag and a small tub of water. "I found it under the sink." She says, referring to the bucket-like object that the water is being held in.

I watch as she kneels down in front of me and takes one of my hands in her own, carefully dabbing at my knuckles with the dampened rag, nibbling on her lower lip.

"You shouldn't have lashed out like that," she says eventually, not looking up from where she is tending to my hands. "He could've had a knife or a gun.. you could have been seriously hurt, and then where would we be?"

"I really don't need a lecture-"

"I'm not lecturing you, Four," she snaps, finally looking up to glare at me. "I could've dealt with that guy myself. You didn't need to step in like that and cause a scene. We were supposed to blend in, remember? You had better hope we don't run into him around here, because that'll mean trouble."

"I wasn't thinking," I admit, sighing. "But I don't regret knocking him about a bit. He was disgusting towards you, and nobody deseves to be spoken to like he was to you. You could've handled him yourself, I know that, but I couldn't help it. And give me a break, ok? I tried to blend in, but that kind of stuff isn't my scene. It may be for you since you've been to a million parties, but that was way out of my comfort zone."

"I understand that. But you need to learn to control your temper, or we're going to find ourselves in deeper shit than we already are - and that's saying something."

"Whatever, just drop it, okay?" I snap, my cold demeanour quickly returning.

She continues to clean my hands up, but her lips are set into a straight line, and she doesn't even try to make any further conversation.

My thoughts go back to before the cops arrived, when I was standing over that guy, and I resembled my father. I wanted to hurt him, to make him feel pain. And that scares me - that I am capable of having those feelings, those intentions. This whole time I've been scared of my father, when really, I should've been scared of becoming him. Violence is all I've ever known. What if I turn into him?

"I'm sorry," I say quietly. "I shouldn't have fought him, I know that. And I know you're probably thinking about how bad of a person I am but I have my reasons behind everything I do, but nobody knows them. And I don't want them to."

"You're not a bad person, Four. Just because we do bad things doesn't mean we are bad people."

"My.. my Dad has problems with his anger too.. I guess it's an Eaton thing." I tell her, my voice strained. I've never mentioned my father to anybody, but Tris has told me a lot about her past, about herself, whereas I've told her close to nothing. It's not a lot, but it's enough. For now, at least.

"I sometimes hear you two shouting when I have my window open.. I'm guessing you two don't get along." Tris admits, as she squeezes water out of the rag into the bucket, which comes out a light shade of pink.

"I guess you could say that."

She doesn't push any further on the topic, and I'm grateful. I'm not ready to tell her everything that's gone on, and I don't think I'll ever be. But that's okay. She doesn't seem to mind.

After cleaning up my hands completely, she puts away the rag and the bucket after emptying the water out, and then informs me she's going to take a shower. She grabs a handful of clothes from the duffle bag we packed in a hurry last night and retreats into the bathroom with a small smile in my direction.

The lock clicks and I flop down onto the bed on my back so that I'm staring up at the ceiling. Everything that's happened in the past few days doesn't seem real, like I've been caught up in some kind of action movie. I just hope there's a happy ending, but I can't see one just yet.

There's a buzz from my phone in my pocket and I frown, pulling it out and glancing at the screen - a text message alert from an unknown number pops up.

 _Unknown - You might have gotten away from Golden Heights, but Miami isn't that big of a city, at least not when we're involved. Good luck trying to get away this time, Tobias._

My jaw almost drops to the ground when I read the last word. How do they know my name? And how did they get ahold of my number? This is bad - they know we're in Miami, but they didn't say they knew where, which means we still have the upper hand here.

But if they know my name.. how much more do they know about me? Or about Marcus?

My finger hovers over the delete button and I bite down on my lip. I don't want to worry Tris even more, and I can't let her see this text. If I wanted people to know my name, I would have used it rather than prominently using a nickname. My name is a secret, and it's one I intend on keeping.

With a sharp intake of breath, I press down on the delete button and the text is erased from my cellphone completely. I stuff it into the duffle bag and pull out a pair of shorts and a shirt, distracting myself with getting ready to go to sleep.

I run my hands through my hair and wander over to the bed, sitting down. I've never shared a bed with anybody before, and definitely not with a girl. Most guys would jump at the chance to be that close to a girl, especially if that girl is as good-looking as Tris, but the whole thing makes me kind of nervous. I'm not usually an anxious kind of person, but I don't know, something is different here. But I'm yet to figure out what. Is it her? Is it me?

I'm brought back down to earth when the bathroom door swings open and Tris walks out almost hesitantly, and that's when I notice that she's wearing my sweatshirt - the soft light blue one that I usually wear when I'm just lying around. Though it fits me well, it practically swallows her whole, and her hands are hidden under the sleeves.

"I'm sorry, I picked up the wrong one. I'll just go grab one of mine-"

"No, it's cool," I say, shrugging. "It suits you better than it does me, anyway." I notice that her cheeks stain pink after the words leave my mouth, but she doesn't make any movements to try and change what she is already wearing. Her long hair is thrown up into a messy bun, and is still wet from her shower.

I sit atop of the sheets and lie back so that I'm looking at the ceiling again, and after a moment Tris does the same, our shoulders a few inches apart.

I notice that her eyes are beginning to droop and a small smile plays at her lips as she says, "Goodnight, Four."

Her eyes flutter closed and I wait for a moment until I know she's asleep before whispering, "Sweet dreams."

 **-oo0oo-**

 **Authors Note:**

 **Hey guys! Sorry again for the slow update, but I worked really hard on this chapter so I hope you enjoy! I wanted to show Tobias's view on this whole thing, and also incorporated a lot more of that growing FourTris relationship!**

 **Also, if any of you are offended by the way I involved Christina, I apologise, but I am so mad about the whole epilogue thing. If you are a fan of Four/Christina I literally think you should get your head scanned. No, I'm kidding, but for this particular story she will not be friends with Tris.**

 **Please make sure to leave a review and let me know what you think so far!**

 **\- GuiltyMind**


	5. Chapter 5

**"Killing The Cliche"**

 **Rated T/M (sexual content, violence and language)**

 **Chapter 5 (Tris' POV)**

 **-oo0oo-**

I had a lot of bad dreams growing up - seriously, the kind where you shout in your sleep and yell and fight and wake up covered in sweat. Not good. It got so bad that my parents - or who I thought to be my parents - had to resort to sending me to a psychiatrist, in hopes that maybe she could find out why I'd been having such a rough time during the night.

My dreams were never anything specific, and were different every time. But they all had one thing in common - they all made me never want to sleep again, in fear of having to go through any of it again.

My psychiatrist spent a whole year trying to figure out the root of my problems, but eventually had to give up. But she did give me one suggestion in my last ever session - I have to think about every bad dream I've ever had and put each one into their own little box, with an extra tight lid so I can make sure they are definitely sealed shut. Then I had to push those boxes to the far corner of my mind, so that I no longer have to think about them.

At first I thought she was crazy, but what d'you know, it really worked, and that night I was able to make it to morning without any nightmares to wake me up. The nightmares stopped. As long as I kept all of my bad thoughts boxed up, they left me alone.

Until now.

Someone is screaming, and I sit bolt upright, drenched in sweat and shivering. My breath is coming in great, gasping gulps, and I know that the screaming was my own.

With tear filled eyes, I quickly look to my left to where I expect to find Four, but I'm met with nothing but empty space. I feel around the bed for another person, still finding nothing. My breathing has quickened now, and a growing feeling of anxiety is beginning to take over my body. Have they taken him? Has he just got up and left in the middle of the night? Is he hurt?

Twisting around in a panic, I manage to hurl myself right off the bed and I land on the floor with a hard thump, hitting my head pretty agressively. I manage to pull myself to my feet and stagger towards the bathroom, hoping and praying that Four is in there, and just didn't hear her scream. But the light is off and the door isn't locked - Four isn't even in this motel room.

Stumbling back towards the bed, my legs give out and I slide down the wall, my shoulders jarring with every hard sob that escapes my mouth. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I feel as if it's about to explode. Worse than the physical pain, however, is the incessant shaking and nausea that's settling at the pit of my stomach.

I'm in a room full of air, but I'm struggling to even breathe. Is this what dying feels like?

I try to take a deep breath but suck the air in too fast and end up coughing, choking on oxygen. That only makes my chest hurt more. I wrap my arms around my legs and draw my knees to my chest, crying into them, trying not to pass out from the insistent and growing pain that's taking over my whole body, ripping away my control.

"Tris?! Tris, what are you doing?"

I barely even register Four's entrance because I'm too far gone, slumped against the wall, coughing and spluttering and crying. My vision has deserted me, but I know it's him - his voice strikes through me like lightening, and goosebumps cover my arms, but maybe that's not because of him.

I feel a presence beside me, and then words are softly being spoken into my ear, telling me to breathe and to relax, and that I'm safe. And for some reason I allow that voice to guide me back to clarity, and slowly my vision starts to become clearer and my breathing starts to return to its usual rhythm, but my heart is still pounding, ready to explode any second.

I inhale and exhale slowly, blinking, waiting for something else to happen. It usually takes a while to regain my awareness, after all. Eventually my eyes flit to the left where Four is knelt beside me, is eyes wide with both fear and panic.

 _He's okay_ , I tell myself with relief, _he's okay_.

I let my head drop onto his shoulder, burying my face into his neck. His arms wind around me, one of his hands resting on the back of my head lightly, holding me in place. Usually after something like this happens I can barely keep my eyes open, due to the exhaustion that always follows, but right now I don't just want to sit here in this stuffy motel room. I need to get out. _Now_.

"Help me outside?" I murmur into the fabric of his hoodie, waving my arm in the direction of the door. Obediantly, Four helps me to my feet, and I lean against him, and he supports me.

The air outside is crisp and fresh, and I lean against the steel balcony, taking steady gulps of oxygen and closing my eyes. "Sorry." I manage to get out eventually, but it comes out as a low, cracked whisper, and I'm surprised that he even hears me.

"You have nothing to apologise for, Tris." He answers steadily, gently placing his hand on my back, fitting it between my shoulder blades.

I know that I need to go back in that room and sleep it all off, but the thought of falling asleep makes me sick to my stomach - my dreams will be haunted with nightmares, I'm sure of it. I need to move, to get away, if only even just for a little while.

So I step away from the railing and migrate back into the motel room, but only for a few seconds; long enough to grab my sneakers. I hang onto the railing with one hand for support as I slip them onto my feet and then make my way towards the metal stairs that lead down to the ground floor. I don't have to look back to know that Four is following me.

I don't even care that I'm only wearing a pair of tiny pyjama shorts and a sky blue sweater of Four's that I've been wearing to bed for a few days. It doesn't help that I'm practically drowning in it, though. But I'm past the point of actually giving a fuck.

I'm not sure what the time is, but it's definitely not near to morning - the sky above us is a thick sheet of black, the only light being from the dull moon and the streetlights dotted around the parking lot.

"Want to enlighten me on where we are going?" Four asks as he catches up to me, matching my pace as we leave the motel grounds and onto the long stretch of road, that is pretty much empty and very, _very_ dark. So dark that somebody could be walking right beside me and I'd have no idea.

"Anywhere." I respond as we shuffle our way down the long, deserted road. Surprisingly, this part of Miami is pretty low-key, and there's not many people around - not that I'm complaining, though.

A good way down the dark road, we come across a small gas station that provides more than enough light for us now. We wander inside, the harsh white light almost blinding me. There's a slurpie machine near to the refrigerators, and I drag Four over, suddenly craving a cold treat to soothe the raw-feeling in my throat.

"I have some money in my back pocket, I think." He says as we approach it. So we both grab two medium-sized plastic cups and start filling them with different flavours to the top - ranging from lemon to blueberry to cola. We pay at the register, and I glare at the guy behind the counter who leans over a little to get a glance of my bare legs.

Leaving the gas station, we sit on the sidewalk outside in silence as we sip on our slurpies, and I cringe at the brain freeze I receive pretty quickly. To my left, judging by his grimace, Four just had the same icy sensation pulsing around his head as I did.

We should be holed up in that motel room again, worrying about whether we are going to get caught by the freaks stalking us. But I don't have much fight left, and right now I just want to have a moment to forget about it all. Is that too much to ask?

"I remember one time back in elementary school, there was this kid who would always pick on me for no reason," I say out of the blue. "I never did anything about it, and nobody knew. But then one day, we were on a field trip to the zoo, and there was a slurpie machine. Everybody got one, and we sat around to drink them. That boy approached me and called me ugly, so I stood up and tipped the whole of my raspberry slurpie over his head."

Four let's out a small laugh from beside me, his teeth flashing in the dark. "Sounds like he deserved it."

"Oh, he did," I agree. "After that he never said anything bad to me again."

"People can be really cruel." He points out flatly as he stirs his straw around, aimlessly.

"People are losers."

"Most definitely," he says, nodding in obvious agreement. "That's why I try and avoid them at all costs."

"You and I are kind of the same.." I say, biting my lip. "Neither of us had friends before. Sure, I had people I hung out with, but none of them were really there, y'know? I couldn't confide in anybody."

"What.. what would you want to tell them?" Four asks after a moments pause, his tone somewhat hesitant.

"You wouldn't understand," I sigh. "I don't think anybody would. It doesn't matter."

"How do you know I wouldn't understand without giving me the chance?"

Chances. I've given a lot of chances, and every time I'm always the one to get fucked over. But I continued to treat people with kindness even when they trampled all over me. I always thought that I'd come out triumphant in the end. But now I'm not so sure - they say everyone deserves at least one chance but I don't think anybody should be given an opportunity to stab me in the back.

But this isn't some bitchy, quidnunc that I'm talking to. This isn't the girls at school, the ones who only speak the lanaguge of gossip - all they care about is which guy they're going to date next, or when the next party is, or when they're going to have another spliff.

This is Four, and if we're going to be able to work together efficiently and successfully, we need to be able to trust one another. And this may well be the first step in that process. And besides, if I have another episode like the one I had back in the motel room, he'll know why, and he might not look at me like I'm crazy.

"What happened back in the motel... it wasn't the first time something like that's happened," I start to explain, cradling my slurpie in both hands and nibbling at my bottom lip. "During our sophomore year, I was diagnosed with an Anxiety disorder, and panic attacks have become a regular thing for me since then. I know it's not a big deal, and a lot of people have it too, but I just wanted to let you know because what happened back there.. it may happen again. No - it _will_ happen again. Especially with all this extra shit piled up regarding our.. er, situation. So yeah.."

"Tris," he says softly, and I lock my eyes on his ocean blue ones. I expect him to be looking at me with sympathy - like I'm some kind of kicked puppy - but I'm pleased to see that his gaze is as firm and certain as it always is. "It's okay. We're going to be okay."

I give him a watery, run-down smile and try my best to believe in what he is telling me, but even I can tell that even he is having a hard time believing it. I don't know what's going to happen next; neither of us do, but we have to try to stay optimistic, rather than pessimistic. Being negative will only damage what motivation we have left. And that's something we can't afford to lose.

"C'mon, enough of the depressing stuff." I say, shaking my head to break me out of my bad thoughts. I want to take my mind off it all, rather than dwell on the things that I cannot change. I hop up from the sidewalk and Four follows in pursuit, unquestioning as we leave the gas station and retreat back into the shadows of the long, empty road that the motel is situated on, but a few miles up.

We walk for a good five minutes until the gas station is no longer in sight and then I sit down in the middle of the road, before lying down onto my back, stretching my legs out. Surprisingly, Four joins me without comment, and we simply lie there in the middle of the road, staring up at the sheet of black that is the sky, not speaking, nor moving.

"What happens if a car comes?" Four asks, breaking the silence that once surrounded us.

"We die." I say simply, not allowing my eyes to stray away from the sky above us.

"Okay."

I don't know how long we lie there, but we aren't disturbed by any vehicles at all, and for that time, a feeling of absolute clarity has made its way into my veins, and I'm not worrying about anything, for once in my life.

Yeah, we're in a very shitty situation, but if can't last forever, right? Although I can't say a light at the end of the tunnel right now, it doesn't mean that it will never be there to guide us. So as we wait, all we can do is look out for one another. Sprawled out in the middle of the road probably isn't a good way to do so, but in the dead of night, no noise to disturb us, I can't find it in myself to care.

My mind wanders a little, and I find myself thinking about a familiar pair of blue eyes, but I'm not sure why. Four has always been somebody distant, somebody that I'd have never predicted to claim my thoughts. I discreetly glance over at him, watching him as he stares up at the sky.

The last few days have been weird - ever since the party.. I don't know, I just find myself looking at him a little more than I probably should. But it's not like I'm always admiring his good looks, but it's little things that he does that captivates me. Am I getting sick? I don't know, but all that I do know is that whatever I'm feeling is going to come back to bite me in the ass.

It always does.

 **-oo0oo-**

We only head back to the motel when the dark skies fade into a haze of pink, bright with the promise of dawn.

I decide to take a quick shower to rinse away the gravel from my hair and the dirt from my skin, whilst Four takes a quick 'power-nap' in the large bed.

The shampoo in the shower is only crappy stuff from the small superstore a few miles down the road, but it's enough to keep my hair generally clean and nice-smelling. Beggars can't be choosers, I guess.

I'm out, dry and dressed within fifteen minutes, and when I retreat back into the room, I see Four stretched out on top of the bed, his chest rising and falling with every steady breath. I raid the small chest of drawers in the corner and pull out a thin fleece blanket, which I then cover him up with, so that he doesn't get cold and wake up - I'm going to let him sleep for as long as he can; I did keep him out all night, after all.

I sit on the floor beside the bed and pull the crumpled paperback I grabbed when I first left, the night I made the escape. It's an old copy of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland that I snagged from a vintage market a few years back.

I've always loved to read, whether it be classics like To Kill a Mocking Bird, or modern-day books like The Hunger Games series. I've always excelled in English Lit, and that's down to all of the reading I've done in the past. I start reading Pride and Prejudice when I was in the eighth grade, and half of the people my age couldn't even spell the book title then. But I was often teased for my love for books, and regularly referred to as a nerd or a dork, something along those lines.

I must say, Alice in Wonderland is one of my favourite books - I just love the idea of another world existing somewhere, with amazing creatures living there. Lewis Carroll did an amazing job, and I still enjoy it, despite it being children's literature.

I open it up and begin to read from page one, and I'm instantly sucked into a world of white rabbits dressed in waistcoats, blue caterpillars that smoke pipes, and flamingo croquet. I'd probably enjoy my time reading a lot more if the people in the room next door would stop screwing - seriously, between the bed slamming against the wall and the constant moaning, I don't know how Four still remains sleeping so peacefully.

I discard my book to one side, unable to continue my reading with the noise distractions, so I get Four's iPod from his duffle bag and slip his earphones into my own ears, hitting play. Coldplay starts to echo into my head, and I silently mouthe the lyrics as I stare off into space, suddenly thinking about the bad dream I had last night.

It was terrible, really bad, especially seeing as I haven't had one in a long while. I really hoped that they had stopped for good, but you know what they say about hope - it breeds eternal misery. Surprisingly, it wasn't me that was being hurt by my _'parents'_.. it was Four. I was tied up to a chair and I had to watch as they stabbed him to death, his scarlet blood spilling out over the floor, coming towards me, splashing at my feet, my legs, my face. Warm and sticky and disgusting.

There was nothing I could do to save him. And then when I woke up and found him gone... well, at times like that I struggle to find the difference between fantasy and reality. Until he walked back into that motel room, I thought he was gone for good, and I was now alone. And the whole thing was all _my_ fault.

After sitting there on the floor for a good hour, listening to Four's playlist on shuffle, I decide to try and get some sleep too. Gingerly, I climb onto the bed and curl up beside him, but leave a good space between us. I take what little blanket Four is not covered by and wrap it around myself, before allowing my eyes to flutter closed, but sleep never comes.

My thoughts are too crowded, and I'm too afraid to sleep, in fear that I'll be attacked with nightmares, and I won't be able to wake up. I don't think I'll ever be able to sleep again. So I just lie there, my eyes closed, trying to force myself to let go, to fall into a deep slumber, just as Four has. But it's no use.

Eventually I give up trying and roll away from Four and off the bed, my feet scratching against the uncomfortable carpet beneath me. I throw on my army green zip-up jacket and wander out on to the balcony outside of the room; maybe the fresh air will relieve some of my built-up anxiety. Not likely, but it's worth a shot.

Zipping the jacket up to my chin, I lean against the railing, closing my eyes briefly as I take large gasps of the crisp, semi-fresh air around me. I say semi-fresh because the amount of cigarette smoke that still lingers cannot be healthy. On the ground floor below, a couple are making out, breaking away only to take a puff of their cigarettes - the smell wafting up to me and invading my nose, making me cough a little.

I'm not sure what time it is - but judging by how high the sun is in the sky, I'd say it's a few hours after noon.

I hear the door to the room open behind me and I look over my shoulder to see a sleepy Four, shuffling his way over to join me against the railing, his eyes clouded with fatigue.

"You okay?" He asks, his voice deep and thick, having just woken up. A shiver runs through me, but I'm guessing that's just because of the cold air.. I think.

"Yeah, just needed to get out of that room for a minute." I answer, giving him a tight-lipped smile.

"Wanna play some cards?"

We end up sitting at one of the wooden benches on the balcony with a deck of cards and a recently found pack of sour gummy worms that we forgot about.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" He asks as I shuffle the cards for our second round of 21.

"Shoot." I say, nodding a little hesitantly, unsure of what he wants to ask me and if it's bad.

"Why did you have that panic attack last night?"

I start to deal the cards correctly, sighing a little as the words leave his mouth. I know this question would arise eventually, but I just hoped he would hold off for a while longer.

"Just a bad dream I had, it was nothing really." I say, waving him off, but he doesn't seem convinced.

"What bad dream? What was it about?"

" _You_ ," I snap, slamming the cards down. "It was about _you_. You died, Four, right in front of my eyes, and it was my fault. I couldn't save you. And then I woke up and you were gone and.. well, I'm sure you can figure out the rest for yourself."

"I woke up because the people next door were being noisy, and decided to go get some air," he tells me quietly. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. I should've been there."

"Why are you apologising? It was me who caused all that fuss. Look, let's just forget about it, right? It's over and done with. No point dwelling on it. Let's move on and pretend last night never even happened. Agreed?"

"No, not agreed," he protests, his brows furrowing into a scowl. "It happened, and we need to get past it, but not just forget. You're afraid, and that's okay. I am too. But I'm bit going to leave, ok? Me and you.. well, we're a team now. And that means we get through things as a team. You can pretend this didn't happen, but I sure as hell won't."

"Why?" I fling back, but my tone isn't as harsh anymore. "Why won't you leave? I barely even know you, so how am I supposed to trust you when you say things like that to me?"

"Then get to know me." He says simply, as if it's that easy. And maybe it is in his world.

"You're impossible, you know that, right?" I mutter, going back to dealing the cards out.

"And you're incredibly stubborn, you know that, right?" He mimics, and although he's not smiling, I can see amusement in his eyes, and the tension between us drops.

I know that if I take my time in getting to know him, I'll start to trust him, and learn to open up to him. But that comes with a price - what if he breaks that trust? What if he gets up and leaves? How am I supposed to just take his word for it? If I get to know him, I'll be putting myself in danger of being fucked over again.

But maybe, just maybe... it's worth the risk.

 **-oo0oo-**

 **Authors Note:**

 **Hey guys! Sorry for the incredibly slow update, but I've had a lot going on recently. I tried to make this pretty long to make up for the slow update, but I don't know if it was even that long aha.**

 **I tried to develop the relationship between Four and Tris a lot more in this chapter, so let me know if you want more moments between them! Thanks for all the support on this story, and I read all of your reviews so please keep leaving them and let me know what you think so far!**

 **\- GuiltyMind**


	6. Chapter 6

**"Killing The Cliche"**

 **Rated T/M (mild sexual content, violence and language)**

 **Chapter 6 (Tris' POV)**

 **~ A week later ~**

 **-oo0oo-**

The coffee cup is warm against my cold hands, and I wrap my fingers around it securely, preserving the heat.

It's early evening, and we decided to finally risk leaving the motel room we've been holed up in for a week straight. Both of us craving a coffee, we ducked into a nearby cafe located in a pretty public area, which makes me feel a lot safer.

The chair opposite mine is now empty, since Four went to the bathroom in the back a few minutes ago, leaving me alone at our table in the corner.

It's a nice place, with a cosy atmosphere. There's a group of teenagers in the opposite corner of the cafe, laughing and drinking frappe's, probably making the most of their Saturday. A few tables away from our own, a middle-aged mother sits with her children, who are eating slices of cake as she sips on a coffee. Other than that, there are no other sitting customers. A few people enter and grab a to-go drink but then leave directly after.

I'm broken from my reverie when Four returns and slides into his seat opposite me, shooting me a small smile as he does so. "Everything ok?" He asks as he reaches for his coffee once more.

"Yeah, of course." I assure him, smiling against the rim of my cup.

Over the past week, I've learnt a lot more about him. He's still very closed-off, and doesn't disclose details regarding his past, but I don't mind. He's entitled to his secrets, and I shouldn't push him to tell me. I've told him stuff about me too, but I still withhold things, just as he does. I told him all about my Anxiety, and what lead up to me finding out about it and going to a psychiatrist, and he listened. He didn't look at me like I was some weird alien species like I feared he would.

And he told me some stuff about his mother, which was unexpected. It wasn't much, but even talking about her I'm sure must be painful for him. It's going to take a lot more time, but I think we're doing well on the whole 'opening up' stuff. Given our current situation, at least.

"We need to talk about the police option again," he tells me quietly, setting his cup down again. "I know that we've been over it a million times before, but we really need to consider contacting them. We can't do this on our own anymore. It's just a matter of time before we really have to accept what's going on - this can't go on forever, and they're not going to stop until they've silence you - us, so that we can't tell anybody what they've done."

"I know," I say, running a hand through my hair. "But what can we do? They always seem to always be one step ahead of us, and what if they find out that we went to the police? They'll go after everybody I knew, everybody I was ever friends with. I've told you before, that it isn't fair to do that. There are so many risks, and we just can't afford to take them. We have to figure this out on our own. Telling the cops is not an option."

"So what are we supposed to do? Go on the run for the rest of our lives? Wait for them to kill us first?"

"I don't know!" I hiss quietly, so that nearby tables can't eavesdrop on our conversation. "I don't know what we're going to do, but we can't go to the police about this, not until we're completely sure that they can't hurt anybody. Until then, we keep this between ourselves."

He rolls his eyes and I notice his jaw clench but he drops the topic and goes back to drinking his coffee. We've been over the topic of the involvement of the authorities too many times now, and we hit a dead-end every time. It's beginning to get very frustrating.

I know that he is right - but getting the cops involved is like sending everybody I knew off to their death; how am I supposed to do that? I understand that our safety is important too, but what about the others? What about their safety? Who protects them? I'd never be able to live with myself if anybody got hurt, because I'd know that it was my fault.

It's different for Four - he only had his father, whom he never talks about, so I'm not sure if he's worried for his safety or not. He didn't tie himself down with friends, so he has nobody left that he cares about. I'm starting to wish I did the same thing; if I had, this all could've been over by now.

"Okay, so no police," he says eventually, breaking the minutes long silence that had fell upon us. "So what is our plan? We can't keep this up forever. It has to end. And if the police can't do that, then we'll have to."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"We have to take matters into our own hands, Tris, deal with it by ourselves." He says firmly.

"And how do you suppose we do that?" I fling back, my eyebrows drawing together. How are we supposed to deal with two serial killers, whose next victims happen to be us?

"I have a good enough idea, but you aren't going to like it."

"Just tell me what you're planning, Four. I'm in no mood for games right now." I say tiredly, glaring at him pointedly.

"We arrange a time, a place.. and we meet with them, and we deal with them. _Permanently_." He explains, his ocean blue eyes burning into mine with a fierce intensity. I've never seen him look like this, at least not around me. He looks as intimidating as people said he was at school. Is it bad that I find it oddly.. attractive? Did I really just think that at a time like this? _Focus, Prior._

I know what he means when he says he wants to 'deal with them' and now I'm positive that he's crazy. He wouldn't get anywhere near them without being stabbed or shot or something. Surely he must know that.

"You're kidding?" I ask, but I know that he's not.

"No, I'm not kidding," he says, confirming what I already knew. "Like you said, we can't go to the cops without being assured that they can't do any damage, and we can make sure they can't. Otherwise, we'll be stuck as runaways forever. Do you want that?"

"Of course I don't," I say, rolling my eyes. "But taking things into our own hands is stupid! You'd get yourself killed! They don't know we're in Miami, or at least they haven't given us a sign that they do. So we can stay here for a while, come up with a real plan, and then make our move. You're not thinking straight. You'd really go out of your way to meet up with those psychos?"

He looks down at his hands, almost guiltily, and I notice him chewing his lip. He knows something I don't. I sit there staring at him, expectantly, waiting for him to tell me exactly what's going on with him.

"They do know that we're in Miami, Tris," he eventually says, so quietly that I barely hear him over the mild noise of the cafe. "On the night of the party when we first got here.. when you were taking a shower I got a text message from them. They know we're here, and somehow they know my real name. Which is impossible - I've never told anybody that. So how could they know?"

"Why didn't you tell me about that message? You can't keep stuff like that from me!"

But before he can answer me, the bell above the door to the cafe rings, signalling that another customer has entered. Absent mindedly, I look to the door and I freeze, my heart thumping hard against my rib cage. A woman and a man stroll inside, looking rather tense and uncomfortable, but they walk right past our table and towards the counter to order.

I recognise those people. It's them. My supposed parents. The people that are attempting to hunt us down and keep us quiet, permenantly, presumably, are here in this very cafe.

Thankfully they haven't noticed us, due to our hats that are pulled low down over our faces, obscuring the view.

"Four," I say quietly but urgently, my breaths starting to quicken. "Don't freak out, but I need you to get up with me and leave, quietly. Keep your head down. And when we get outside, I need you to run." He looks as if he wants to question me but when his eyes meet mine he presses his lips tightly together - noticing what I assume to be a panicked look in them.

So he quickly but discreetly rises from his seat and I follow in pursuit, and we try to act casual as we make for the door, our heads dipped low so that the hats cover more of our faces. As soon as we are hit with the cold air outside, Four does as I asked and begins to run to the left, and I follow just as quickly.

"What's going on?" He asks as we sprint down the street, away from the cafe.

"They were in there. They would've seen us if we didn't get out of there then." I respond, pushing myself forward to keep up with Four and his long legs. We continue to run, and when I dare to look back, my stomach twists and I think I may be sick right here on the cobbled street.

They're following us, and I turn back as soon as I can, but I feel their stares burning into my back.

"Fuck." He mutters, now noticing that we are being followed too. Before I can say anything, he grabs my hand and tugs me into the large department store on our left. We charge through the automatic entrance doors and race towards the escalators, running up them, two steps at a time. They can't be far behind, so we have to move fast.

A few of the workers on the second floor that we have now reached give us dirty looks, but I don't have much time to notice because we're making for the large clothes rails that will hopefully provide some kind of barrier, so they cannot see us.

We just manage to take cover behind a few knitted sweaters just as they reach the floor we are on, their eyes narrowed as they look around, scanning the place for any signs of our whereabouts.

"Excuse me? What do you two think you're doing?"

The voice behind us seems to scare Four so much that he trips over his own feet and goes flying into the clothing rail that we are currently crouched behind, causing it to crash to the ground, exposing us to everyone's eyes - and I mean _everyone_ , since the whole collision got their attention. But that also means that we got some unwanted attention too. Deadly attention.

The sales assistant who startled us is looking down at us in a mix of disbelief and horror - but what did we expect? This department store is one of those high-end places, where only the people who are practically rolling in it buy their stuff. Which means the workers are going to be equally as snobby. But that doesn't matter now, because we've got to get out of here. _Now_.

"Run!" I say, scrambling to my feet and dragging Four up with me, and then we sprint for the escalator that goes up to the third floor, climbing if faster than before, knowing that they are closer than ever. Being stuck in a store with two people wanting to kill you is definitely terrifying, and my heart is pounding so hard that I'm afraid it may burst right out of my chest any second now.

Up on the third floor, we spot a fire exit in the far corner, and we dash towards it, knocking shoppers and workers out of the way as we only increase in speed, desperate to get out of here as fast as possible. The cold air hits us as we push open the door and stagger out onto the fire escape - a black steel staircase that leads all the way down to the sidewalk; what seems to be an alley way of some kind, with a bunch of huge trash cans for off-loading all the large amounts of garbage.

It doesn't take for us long to reach the bottom, but as soon as we do reach solid ground, I hear the fire exit door slam open, and I know we don't have enough time to successfully escape. Four grabs my hand again and pulls me along anyway, but I'm sure he knows how hopeless it is too.

"We won't make it, we need to hide!" I gasp out as we turn the corner, to another stretch of dark alley, with similar-looking trash cans to before. I watch his eyes fall on those bright yellow bins and I know what he's thinking.

Despite how gross it is, I don't think we have much choice, so I accept the leg-up he offers and swing myself into the industrial-sized trash can, landing amongst the nasty garbage. Four joins me quickly, his height making it easy for him to just vault over the side and end up beside me. I clap a hand over my mouth to muffle my heavy breathing, and I screw my eyes shut.

Footsteps follow after a few seconds of just sitting amongst the trash, but stop barely metres away.

"Great, we lost them." My supposed father snaps, frustrated, and the bin we are in vibrates, due to what I presume to be his fist colliding with the steel.

"And we'll find them again," my 'mom' snaps. "They're just children, and this whole runaway business can only go on for so long. We'll soon have them right where we want them, believe me."

"This could've been over a long time ago if that Eaton boy hadn't gotten involved."

"I agree, but maybe we can use him to our advantage," she counters, thoughtfully. "You know Tris, she'll have taken to him immensely by now, and she'll most likely do anything to protect him."

"The girl's practically a walking, bleeding heart."

"Exactly, we just have to set the trap, make sure they don't expect it."

"Well let's get out of here before the cops arrive." My so-called dad advises, and then I hear their footsteps again, but they grow fainter and fainter until I can no longer hear them.

They've gone.

I let my hand fall from my mouth and push aside the burning sensation that's building in the back of my eyes. How could have I believed that they were my parents? They're monsters.

"Children?" Four scoffs, his lip curled into a scowl. "We'll show them."

He gets out of the trash first, and then pulls me out behind him.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly, fighting to keep my voice steady. "You shouldn't have gotten involved, and now they're going to hurt you -"

"Tris, stop," he says firmly, grabbing my shoulders. "We're going to be okay, because now we know what they're planning. They're underestimating us, and that's their mistake. I'm not going anywhere, right? I'm here, and I'm staying here, with you. Just trust me."

"I trust you." I say softly, and I mean it - I don't have much of a choice, do I? We have to have trust, or we might as well give ourselves up. And besides... I think that he is a trustworthy person. I mean, I've spent every second with him for a few weeks now, and during that time, I've gotten a glimpse of who he actually is, and I'm not disappointed.

There's a scraping noise at the end of the alley and I snap my head towards it, relieved only to see a stray cat rustling around in the garbage. "C'mon, before they come back." Four says, and we start towards the end of the alley - opposite to the way they went. We're going to have to be very careful from now on.

 **-oo0oo-**

Back in the motel room, Four paces around impatiently, nibbling on his thumb nail, while I sit cross legged on the edge of the bed, watching him warily.

I can't help but think about the conversation we overheard - they're going to use him to hurt me, to get me to surrender myself to them. They think I care about him that much.. and maybe I do. I want to protect him from them, but how am I supposed to do that? I can't even protect myself, let alone anybody else.

For the first time since we escaped, I'm starting to think that we would've been better off if I had just let them do what they wanted with me to keep me quiet. But because I fled, both of us are in a worse danger than before. I should've never let him come. I tried to convince myself that he would have anyway, but maybe I could've done more to prevent it. I'm more than capable of being very stubborn when neccesary, so why didn't I decide to become stubborn in that moment?

The answer is simple - I _wanted_ him to come. And that's what makes me selfish. I didn't want to go alone, because I know that I'd never be able to cope. But because of that horrible part of me, Four's life is in danger, and I don't know what to do.

He insists that he's doing this because he wants to, but I can't help but think that he's just doing because he feels like he has to. I mean, what kind of person would just send somebody else away in a time like that? But I should've put my foot down, told him that I needed to do this on my own, despite what I wanted. But I can't take any of that back now, so all I have left to do is face what mess I've made for us.

I want to scream and yell in fury, but I also want to curl up in a corner and cry. But I can't do that. I have to attempt to stay strong, so I ignore the burning sensation in my eyes and withhold the tears that I feel building up.

There's nothing we can do now. It's over. But maybe I can stop this - if I hand myself over to them, maybe they'll leave him alone. But it's too dangerous; I'd never trust them to really stick to their word and leave him be. And then where would we be? Well, dead, most likely.

This is a really shitty situation, and I have no idea how we are going to pull through. I've tried to stay positive, but there's not much to be positive about now.

Four is still pacing around the room, his eyebrows furrowed into a deep, furious scowl. His jaw is clenched, as are his fists that hang by his side. It's at times like these when I see the intimidating, scary side that everybody at school saw. But I only see that version of him at moments like these. He's never been a threat to me, only a boy whose been fucked over one too many times, and now pushes everybody away to protect himself.

I don't know what happened to him in the past, but I know it was _something_. And maybe he'll never tell me, but a girl can hope, right?

"I know what you're thinking," he says eventually, his voice deep and quiet. "And I'm not going to let you do it, Tris. You think that this is your fault, and I want you to get that out of your head, understood?"

"It _is_ my fault, I know you say that it was your choice to come along, but I should've had the strength to tell you no. I shouldn't put you in danger like I have. And I'm sorry." Unable to look at him any longer, I duck my head and look down at my feet, chewing on my lip.

It's only a few seconds later that I feel his fingers wrap around my chin, tilting my head back up. I don't expect to see softness in his eyes, and I'm not proven wrong, but I'm glad. His blue eyes stare into mine with the same fierce intensity they always possess - he doesn't think I'm weak, and he doesn't believe that this is my fault. But I don't believe that. And I don't think I'll ever be able to.

"Listen to me," he says firmly, but not aggressively. "I chose to come with you. I wouldn't have come otherwise, and you know me enough to understand that when I don't want to do something, I just don't do it. Obviously we'd both prefer to be somewhere else right now, but we aren't. We're here, and we can't change that. And you blaming yourself isn't going to change it either. Sometimes you have to accept that there are things out of your control, and I know that's hard for you, which is why I'm trying to help you. You are not to blame, for any of this, Tris. We've been thrown into a really bad situation, and right now we need to be focusing on how to get out of it, rather than dwelling on how it happened in the first place. I'm here for you, but I need you to work with me, ok? Can you do that for me?"

"I think so." I whisper, my voice cracking slightly, and my vision blurring with tears. No one has ever cared enough to tell me all of that, and I don't know what to feel anymore.

I want to believe him, to trust him, but it's not that easy. There's that nagging feeling stuck in my mind, constantly hissing accusations, blaming me for all the bad that happens to me - to us. But Four's right, I have to ignore it and push on; trying to pin the blame on myself isn't going to get us out of this mess, but focusing on a plan will, which is what we need to do, rather than sitting around feeling sorry for myself.

"You're strong, stronger than me, stronger than them. You've been through a lot, and this is just another thing you need to overcome. And this time.. you've got me. And well, I'm not just going to leave. I'm here, and I'm staying."

"Thank you," I say, a sad smile tugging at my mouth - the most I can manage right now. "Thank you."

I let my head drop down onto his shoulder, nuzzling my face into his neck. I'm not sure where this confidence has come from, but ever since he saved me from my supposed parents, I've always linked his smell to safety, and that's what I need to feel right now - I need that reassurance that words can't give, and being close to him brings me that, as well as a tingling feeling that makes my heart race and my heart swell. But that's probably just my anxiety messing with me.

His lips find my jaw and he places a small, feather-like kiss there, and I sigh, melting into his shoulder, never wanting to pull away, and he doesn't attempt to move either, so we remain sitting like that.

I'm not sure what tomorrow will bring, but I am sure that Four will be there. He's told me that he won't leave, and I trust him enough to believe him.

But the question remains, _how long will he be around to make promises?_

 **-oo0oo-**

 **Authors Note:**

 **Hey guys! Sorry for the short chapter, but I did work hard on it, and tried to add in some more action as well as some cute FourTris moments because we love them!**

 **The more reviews I get the faster I will upload new chapters!**

 **-GuiltyMind :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**"Killing The Cliche"**

 **Rated T/M (vague sexual content, violence and language)**

 **Chapter 7 (Tris' POV)**

 **-oo0oo-**

We stand shoulder to shoulder, watching the flame grow and spit and fizzle, our moods dampened and our only source of communication destroyed.

"It's for the best," I say, my voice scratchy. "They could've been tracking us via your cellphone... this had to be done." Four nods but looks on miserably as his cellphone continues to burn, flames surrounding it completely.

It only came to me a half hour ago that they could've been following us the same way they did before, with our phones, and this was the best way to get rid of it quickly.

So we stand behind the large motel building as dawn breaks, just watching the flickering fire claim his phone, ripping any kind of communication with the people back where we came from away from us. It's not a great feeling, admittedly. But we didn't have much choice.

After a night's rest, I managed to reflect on the events of yesterday, and how close we came to being caught. I never want to get that near to them ever again, which is why we need to come up with a real plan, and not just go around and around in circles, talking about the same things, not now that we've both come to understand what's really going on here.

And that's why we're getting the hell out of here, and heading back to where all of this started - I'm hoping that they'll never believe that we'd be dumb enough to go back there, but that's exactly why we're doing it. I remember learning about Occam's razor a few months back.

" _The simplest answer is always the right one_."

So it seems right to apply that theory here, and I just hope we're making the right decision. Getting my friends to safety is neccesary before we can take all of this to the cops or the FBI. We have to be sure that nobody is going to get hurt, and this is one way to do that, if it works out, that is.

After stomping out the shrinking fire and kicking the cellphone under the large trash can to our left, we return to our room to pack up all of the stuff we have; which consists of a great amount of one duffle bag. But I'd much rather travel lightly, especially when we never know when we'll have to make a break for it. Having tons of stuff slowing us down isn't exactly going to help our case.

So we throw into the bag all of the discarded clothes that linger around the room and any other things that we didn't bother to put away again after getting them out. Signing out doesn't take long, and then we're on the road - and by that I mean literally, because we have to walk to the station seeing as we don't have enough cash to waste on cabs.

It's a pretty hot day too, which makes matters worse, and I'm not really in the mood to initiate in a conversation right now, and luckily Four isn't either, which means we walk in a comfortable sort of silence.

Absently, I begin to hum gently, trying to distract myself from the shit flying around my head. The tune that I end up humming is the old Gotye song - I used to listen to it on a loop when it first came around in, like, 2011.

But I can't even remember what it felt like to be that age, to be so niave and innocent... to be able to believe that I was safe and cared for. But all of those years, I was being lied to. They always told me how dangerous the world is, warning me about strangers and people who wanted nothing more than to hurt me.

And even from an early age, I began to grow anxious around strangers and new people, scared that they wanted to hurt me. I spent so long fearing the people living outside of my home, when really I should have been fearing those living _inside_. How messed up is that?

I start to think then about the day Four moved in next door - that day I do remember. I was sat out on my grassy front yard playing with my barbies when the moving van pulled up next to the sidewalk...

 **-oo0oo-**

 _It was a nice day out, and I was glad when my parents said that I could play outside instead of being cooped up in the walls of the house._

 _So I took an armful of my barbies and sat outside on the front yard, the slight breeze ruffling my shoulder length hair and the sun shining down on my already slightly-bronzed skin from the heatwave we had that week._

 _It was then that I noticed the large moving van pull up on the sidewalk of the house next door - it had been empty for a good few months, since the previous owner died; a lovely old lady who would give me hard candies whenever she would see me._

 _There was a woman and a man, along with a boy who looked to be the same age as me. As a seven year old, I was pretty excited about the idea of a new neighbour, especially if that meant I had someone new to make friends with._

 _I watched for a while as they moved boxes from the van into the house, while the boy sat to the side, fiddling with an action man figure, his brows furrowed._

 _His mom and dad had been gone for a while, having disappeared inside of the house, so I plucked up the courage to wander over to their yard, to talk to the boy._

 _With a barbie in one hand, I had gone over and beamed down at him. But he didn't seem to pleased to see me at all._

 _"What do you want?" He had asked me, suspiciously._

 _"Well, I saw that you were new and I thought we could be friends.. don't you want to be friends?" I countered, my voice becoming less and less confident as I ploughed on. He simply shook his head and continued to play with his Super Man figurine, ignoring me._

 _"Well, I'll be friends with you, anyway," I had said stubbornly, plopping down next to him on the grass. "My name is Tris, what's yours?"_

"My gym teacher called me Four at my old school.."

 _"Four?" I had asked, my eyes wide. "A number for a name? That's even weirder than Tris. But okay, Four it is."_

 _The interaction was stopped then, because his father had stepped out of the front door, and Four quickly scrambled to his feet._

 _"It's time to come in now, say goodbye to your friend." He had said, giving me a kind smile, which I had quickly reciprocated._

 _Four had then turned to me and muttered a quick goodbye and scuttled up the front path and into his house, shutting the door behind him. Then I was called in by my mother for lunch, so I forgot about the whole thing and moved on to another game which kept me inside, so I didn't see any more of him_.

 **-oo0oo-**

After that day, I never really spoke to Four again. He attended my middle school, and was even in my class, but I was kind of distracted by my own friends, and he never attempted to speak to me, so that's how we left it.

Then we moved up to high-school, which meant we saw even less of each other. And until Senior Year, we only had one class together, in which we had ignored each other completely.

But then we were put in the same art class this year, and although we never initiated in any kind of real conversation, we would make simple exchanges, which was unusual for him - when we started as Freshman, that's when he started to push people away, to keep himself isolated, and I never tried to help him out, and bring him back out of his shell. Like everybody else, I let him do his own thing and moved on.

But I'm starting to wish that I had stepped in when I had the chance - then maybe we would've been friends way before this, and our friendship could've been initiated in a better way than what it has been.

I wonder if he still remembers that day when we first met? I doubt it. I mean, why would he? Like I've said, we were never even friends, and that memory has only very recently resurfaced clearly in my mind. I'm not even sure why that memory means as much as it does.

I don't know what's going on with me at the minute, whether it be that I'm simply getting mentally ill from all the shit that's gone down, or I'm just going mad, I don't know. But whenever Four gets close to me, or our hands touch, or on the rare occasions that I find myself in his arms, I get this weird feeling in my stomach and my head feels like it's about to explode.

It's like what I feel when I get bad anxiety attacks, but this isn't so bad.. it's kind of like a good feeling of anxiety, one that gives you a buzz of nervous adrenaline. Things never used to be that way, but I feel like something is there that wasn't there before, and it's a scary kind of feeling, daunting, even. Does he feel it too? But what does it even mean?

I push those thoughts aside and begin humming gently again to distract myself. I have enough to focus on right now, and don't have enough space in my head to have those feelings piling up too. I'm just going to have to ignore whatever it is that's going on, or we're never going to get any of this sorted out. And for now, that's what is most important, to both of us, I think.

I need to keep Four safe, as well as myself, but I don't think I can do that. I've never been able to protect anything, let alone a person. I know Four can fend for himself, he's more than capable, but I feel as though it's my responsibility to ensure that he does get out of this alive. I'd never be able to live with myself if something happened to him.

He's told me over and over again that it's his choice to be in this with me, and that he's not going anywhere, but a part of me wishes he really would just get up and ditch me. But a bigger part aches for him to stay. It's like a battle between my head and my heart, though I'm not entirely sure about either of them at the minute.

I look over at Four, attempting to seem casual, but find him already watching me with an undisguised curiosity.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to stare," he apologises quickly when our eyes meet, and I notice the tips of his ears turn a light shade of pink. "You just seemed deep in thought and I was waiting for you to snap out of whatever daydream you were in."

"Don't apologise, I do that a lot - I'm away with the fairies most of the time." I say lightly, tucking a strand of stray hair back behind my ear.

We fall back into a comfortable silence as we near the end of the long, country lane, and finally find some sort of civilisation.

We walk past a few gas stations, a Walmart, multiple small restaurants and a row of low-key stores. As we haven't ventured out of the motel much, the whereabouts of the train station is pretty much unknown, which is why we left early; figuring that it'll take a while to locate the actual station itself before we can even think about getting on a train.

Eventually, we have to stop and ask a woman walking her German Shepard where we can find the station, and she kindly gives us pretty detailed instructions on how to get there. After thanking her, we try and go the way she said, but it's easier said than done as all the streets look the same as the last.

But after a good hour of searching and stressing, we finally come across the station we arrived at last week when we first came to Miami. I had really hoped we could stay here longer, but that's just not an option anymore with the freaks knowing where we are. It's only a matter of time before they find out where specifically, and we may not have been so lucky then.

Four's plan is smart and should work well, but it's executing it that I'm worried about. What if something goes wrong or somebody gets hurt? Then what? But I have no other choice but to trust that it'll go smoothly, and if it doesn't.. well, we'll have to deal with that when the time comes, but hopefully it never will.

We get our tickets from the booth - thankfully there's a route from Miami back to our home town - and wander deeper into the station aimlessly, as we have about forty-five minutes before the train leaves the station, so now we just have time to kill and nothing to do.

While Four takes a bathroom break, I shuffle into one of the small stores and load my hands with a bunch of various snacks and bottled drinks. After all, this is a long ass journey, and hopefully this will be the last of the food we will need to purchase anytime soon, as we plan to snag some stuff from Four's house.

By the time I've paid for my things, Four has returned from the bathroom and I toss him a bottled water, which he then gulps down half. After walking for so long in the heat with nothing to drink, his reaction is warranted, and I quickly drink up the rest, sighing at the relief it gives my dry throat.

After a little while, we just sit down on a nearby bench, making sure it's near our correct platform, and do our own things. I take out my Alice in Wonderland book and turn to the page I reached last, and Four shoves in his earphones, listening to the music from his iPod.

As much as I try, I cannot seem to concentrate enough to properly read my book, and end up skim-reading most of it, which is something I never do. Maybe it's got something to do with the growing feeling of anxiety weighing my shoulders down, or maybe it's the fact that Four and I are are sat in such close proximity. Either way, it's very distracting.

So I abandon my book and take to staring into space instead, letting myself get lost in thought again. I spot a young couple standing a few feet away, making out a little too heatedly, which is even more noticeable since they are in public.

I've never actually had a boyfriend, unless you count Scotty Longman from third grade, which I don't - that was more of a love hate kind of thing. As in, he _loved_ me, and I _hated_ him. He was a year younger than me, and would follow me around at school like a lost puppy. He told people we were dating, but I never knew what that really meant back then - I mean, in third grade I thought boys were diseased.

Since then, I've steered clear of them all together. But that's because I was so busy with my school work, and didn't really have any room for another person in my life, distracting me from getting into college.

Peter Hayes made many advances, though - I remember at a party he tried to get me to play seven minutes in heaven with him, and for a moment I thought he would literally drag me into that closet, but I made a hasty exit, avoiding what I'm guessing would've been a very sticky situation.

I feel nothing towards Peter, apart from mild annoyance. A lot of girls call him handsome, which could be true, but his personality just ruins his whole image. Cocky, arrogant.. everything I wouldn't want in a boyfriend. So I pretty much avoided him at all costs, trying to dodge all of the rather obvious attempts to get my number, and the double-meaning phrases he would whisper to me when nobody else was paying attention. Honestly, he just creeped me out.

My friends - Piper, especially - would hook up with every guy in school, and I'm pretty sure they did. Not including the nerds and Four, of course.

But I remember in Sophomore year, when I first became friends with Piper, she had this huge crush on Four. But every advance she made would come out useless, because he shot her down every time. And that carried on most of the year, until she met her current boyfriend, Aaron, who attends the local college, studying mechanics.

I've only met him a handful of times, but he never seemed very appealing - kind of greasy and lazy, your classic college stoner. But she looks at him like he's some kind of glorified Zac Efron, so I kept my mouth shut. Maybe he's a good guy, I need to stop judging people so quickly.

As far as I know, Four is as inexperienced in relationships as I am, which an outsider would find surprising, due to his good looks. But he would reject every girl who attempted to ask him out, or hook up with him.

Even girls like Lauren Walker - the most popular girl in school. She and her friends drive me crazy. They have it all - perfect hair with fancy highlights and perfect clothes, the kind that comes from the expensive branded stores in the classier part of the mall. Everybody else wanted to be like them, except for me.

Admittedly, she stayed out of my way for the most part, and chose to pick on the kids who couldn't stand up for themselves, and nobody did anything in fear that they'd be next on Lauren's list, and that is not somewhere you want to be. Girls like her.. well, crossing them is a big mistake. They could ruin you. Guys would kill to get in bed with her, but Four wasn't interested.

A few months back, Piper accused of him of being gay, to which he simply scoffed and told her to get a grip. I didn't believe a word she said about him, anyway. People make up rumours, that's just how things are. But that's what they are - rumours. They aren't true. And spending time with him these past few weeks, he's shown no signs of being gay at all, so Piper is talking out of her ass, I know it.

But how am I to know that he hasn't hooked up with anybody before? He may just want to keep it on the DL, which I totally understand. It seems likely, because I'm sure every girl in school was pining after him. It's not my place to ask him that, though, and I wouldn't risk the awkwardness that may follow. It's none of my business.

All too soon, our train is being called for boarding over the crackly intercom, and we make our way on to the platform. We file into the middle car with a bunch of other passengers and snag two seats together before they all fill up - me beside the window, and Four closest to the aisle.

He sets the duffle bag at his feet and we both buckle up our seat belts as requested by the driver on the overhead speaker, who informs us this will be a long and rough journey. There are a bunch of other passengers, more than we've seen on these trains, but that's because there are a lot of stops between Miami and where we are going, but I'm sure the numbers will decrease as the journey progresses.

Once the train pulls out of the station, we decide to kick off the long ride with a game of Go Fish, quietly, so not to irritate the people around us, though most of them seem to be consumed in something - whether it be an iPad, a book, or their phones.

After a while of playing, we get bored and switch to snacking on a bag of candy corn and playing the question game.

"Favourite colour?" He asks, popping a few more pieces of candy into his mouth as he watches me.

"Yellow," I answer. "What's your favourite movie?"

"Probably Deadpool, although Kick-Ass is good too. Dog or cats.. or both?"

"Eh, cats are cute, but I'd have to lean towards dogs. Beagles, to be exact." I respond, shrugging. "What was your most-watched TV show growing up?"

"Sesame Street, or maybe Blue's Clues," he chuckles. "Books or movies?"

"Books, definitely. They give so much more details than movies do, and are far more interesting.. favourite food?"

"Cake, chocolate cake, if we're giving specifics," he answers. "Favourite teacher?"

This game continues on for a while, and we learn more little things about each other - I find out that his favourite colour is black, his favourite song is Mr. Brightside by The Killers, his least favourite subject at school is Math, he used to have a pet dog called Felix who died when he was six, and his guilty pleasure is Barry Manilow music.

After a while of listening to music with him, I let my head rest against the cold window and allow my eyes to flutter closed, the rocking of the train trying to send me to sleep.

"Sweet dreams, Tris," is the last thing I hear before sleep totally overtakes my body.

 **-oo0oo-**

 **Authors Note:**

 **Hey guys! Hope you enjoyed the new chapter! There's not much dialogue in this one, but I thought I'd give you guys more of an insight on Tris's thoughts rather than her speaking all the time. Let me know what you thought!**

 **55 reviews! That's crazy! You guys are so supportive, and I appreciate everyone who follows and favourites my work, and I always take the time to read reviews, so please tell me how you think the story is going so far!**

 **The more reviews I receive, the quicker I will try to update!**

 **\- GuiltyMind :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**"Killing The Cliche"**

 **Rated T/M (vague sexual content, violence and language)**

 **Chapter 8 (Four's POV)**

 **-oo0oo-**

Getting off the train at the right stop feels weird, very weird, actually. We haven't been in this particular station for a few weeks, and when we were here, it wasn't something I wanted to remember.

When we first went on the run and took a train to Golden Heights - the only place I actually recognised by name. My mother used to have family out there, so once a blue moon we would go visit them. But eventually they moved further away and Marcus refused to travel that far to see them - he never liked mom's side of the family, because they were 'bad influences who only wanted to break them up.'

So that was the end of that, and I haven't spoke to anybody else since her funeral. And even then, Marcus never left me alone, most likely fearing that I may tell somebody about what he was doing to her - to us - before she died.

And I might have, but he made it impossible that day, which meant I wasted my one and only chance to escape his rage; after that day he completely cut ties between us, and I never received cards or presents on my birthday or at Christmas like I used to, and I suspect that Marcus was responsible for that too.

We leave the fairly busy station and head out onto the sidewalk outside. There are a few cars in sight, but not lots of traffic, which means we manage to cross to the other side with ease. Then we duck into the long stretch of side alley that we ran through, but this time our hearts aren't pounding and we don't even have to move any faster than a moderate-paced walk. It's not dark quite yet either, which means we don't have to use a flashlight to provide a light source so that we know where we are actually going.

Tris walks silently alongside me, her lips pressed together tightly. Coming back here is going to be hard for her, I know that. I can't even begin to imagine what's going on inside of her head right now. I'm trying my best to be understanding, but it's harder than I thought it would be - how could I begin to understand what she's going through?

I've had it tougher than most, but I don't know what it's like to have your seemingly perfect life ripped away from you, and have it revealed to be one big pile of bullshit. Add that to her anxiety issues, and I'm surprised she hasn't had a breakdown yet. But she's strong, she's brave. And I'm going to try and be the same, for her sake as well as my own.

Something between us feels.. different, somehow. Lately we've been getting closer, and I can't help but want to know even more about this girl. She's lived next door to me for nine years, and it's only now that I start to take a deeper interest in her.

I mean, it's not like I've ever not noticed her before; it's hard not to. She stands out amongst her friends - she's beautiful, but naturally, which is what made me more interested in her than any of the other girls in school.

But I never spoke to her properly, not since we first met when I moved in. We were, what, eight years old? But I still remember it clear as day. I'd looked up from my spot on the grass to see a blonde girl clutching a barbie doll, looking down at me with the brightest smile I'd ever seen. And the more I get to know her now, the more I wish I'd taken the initiative and attempted to make some kind of friendship with her before all of this.

The word _friendship_ makes my jaw clench, uncomfortably, but I don't know why.. or maybe I do, and I'm just not willing to accept it. Yes, that's probably the most likely explanation.

Hesitantly, I reach out and slide my fingers in hers, giving them a reassuring squeeze. She looks up at me with a small smile tugging at her lips, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. She's nervous, and I am too, but I have to ignore my fear and push on. And Tris knows that too, which is why she is putting on a brave face, probably trying to convince herself rather than me. But I stay quiet and let her prepare herself her way, instead of trying to force her into a conversation.

It takes a shorter amount of time than I expected to reach our neighbour hood, and we stand at the end of the alley on the opposite side of the street to our houses.

Marcus's car is vacant from the driveway, as is both cars in Tris's house, and I'm willing to bet that it's still in use, but back in Miami. I'm not worried about him coming home anytime soon - it's a Thursday, which is the night he goes to the bar downtown and gets shitfaced, and ends up collapsing in a gutter somewhere.

Last month, I had to go collect him from the station in the morning because a group of college students found him slumped onto the sidewalk, a beer bottle still clasped in his hand. He spent the night in a cell, but they released him after I agreed to come collect him. I didn't even get a fucking thank you, he just staggered straight upstairs as soon as we arrived back to the house, and slept for the rest of the day. And what did he do when he woke up? Showered, and then went out to the bar again.

But I'm glad when he doesn't come home - a drunk Marcus is worse than a sober one, and even a sober one is deadly.

We cross the street, our hands still clasped together, and walk up the pathway leading up to my front door. I release Tris's hand in order to retrieve the spare key hidden under the large, leafy potted plant to the left of the door.

I slot it into the lock and open it cautiously; even though I know he is not home, I'm still wary of making too much noise, just incase. The door creaks as I push it open, and I let Tris step inside first before following in after her.

The house is silent, as it always is when Marcus is gone. I may happen to live here, but this house will never be a home. It can't be. Not with him still shuffling about the place.

"You're place is.. er, nice." Tris says awkwardly, quickly avoiding a shattered beer bottle a few inches away from her feet.

It was nice, _once_. I remember those days so clearly, even though they haven't happened that way for a long time. When I returned home from school, the house would smell of freshly baked cookies and fruity-scented cleaning products, and my mom would be there too, washing dishes perhaps, or maybe flicking through a magazine and drinking a mug of tea.

We would sit together then, snacking on whatever baked goods she had made that day, and just enjoying each other's company. Then I would help finish up the chores before Marcus came home, so he wouldn't have anything else to yell about. Afterwards, she would start on dinner whilst I retreated to my bedroom to complete my homework, always listening out for the screech of tires on the driveway, signalling that he was home.

There are good memories in this house, ones that I'll treasure forever, but there are also the bad ones, and I'll never forget those either. But when mom died, the good moments stopped and the bad ones just took over, trapping me inside the walls of this house.

I wish she was still here, but then again, I'm also glad she's gone - she escaped his wrath, and that's something I would stay up and pray for every night; some kind of escape from the hell I was living.

The crunch of glass under my feet snaps me out of my thoughts and I shake my head slightly, gathering myself before I speak. "Do you want something to drink? Tea? Soda? Coffee? Water?" I ask, moving towards the kitchen, and she follows me.

"A water would be great, thank you."

She hesitantly sits at the small, round dining table whilst I grab a glass from the cupboard and fill it with water from the tap. I grab a can of soda for myself from the refrigerator, having to reach past all of the beer cans to get it.

I then join her at the table and we sit in an oddly awkward silence as we sip on our drinks, not knowing what to say. It feels weird, being back here, after everything that's happened. The last time we were together in this house, we were panicking and rushing to make an escape. I can sense Tris's anxiety levels swooping skyward just by being here, so I decide to cut to the chase and begin to gather up more supplies - that's what we originally came for, anyway.

I scrape my chair back and squat down to reach the cupboards, grabbing packets of biscuits, bags of chips, multipacks of soda cans and a large bag of fun sized candy bars. I shove them into the duffle bag we have, and zip it up.

I need to grab some stuff from upstairs clothing wise, seeing as Tris seems to have claimed half of my stuff.. but I don't mind. She actually looks kind of good in my clothes. She's taken a liking to that sky blue sweatshirt she accidentally put on last week, and wears it around quite a lot.

"Do you need to get some stuff upstairs?" She asks, as if reading my mind.

I nod and gesture for her to follow, and she obliges, walking behind me as I exit the kitchen and ascend the stairs, the carpet under our feet stained with wine and beer, and there's been some patches that have been marked black by cigarette ash.

Next to the bathroom is the door to the small coat closet, which is vacant of coats and is used for.. different purposes. I keep my eyes trained ahead of me rather than letting them drift towards that closet; there are a bunch of those bad memories I was talking about set in there.

I nudge the door to my bedroom open with my foot and Tris follows me in, and I invite her to sit at my desk while I throw some fresh clothes into the duffle bag. She sits on my big, black chair and fiddles with a few of the items on my desk, her eyes scanning the room with a genuine curiosity.

My room is definitely different to your average teenage boy's man cave. Marcus never allowed me the luxury of video games or a laptop, I mean, I was only just given a cellphone for my fifteenth birthday. And I had to watch it burn this morning, the only thing that he had given me that was actually worthwhile.

The walls are painted dark brown, and the carpet is a cream colour, matching the shutters. My bed is nicely made, and everything is dust-free and impeccably clean. On my windowsill is a glass sculpture, that glints in the dying light of evening - the last thing my mother gave me before her passing.

Marcus burnt everything she owned a few days after her funeral, and that included all the pictures I had of her in the album hidden under my bed. But I managed to prevent that sculpture from joining everything else in the bonfire, and I've kept it there ever since. Marcus is either too drunk or too stupid to notice most of the time.

My school books are stacked neatly on my desk, and all my clothes are arranged nicely in my closet, all of the colours grouped together.

"I never expected your room to look like this," Tris says as she continues to glance around at everything, but then I watch a steady and fierce blush heat up her cheeks and she turns to face me, embarrassed. "I didn't mean.. well, it's not like I ever thought about it- er, I'll stop talking now."

"What did you expect? A shag carpet, lava lamps and black light posters?" I say, poking her side, turning it into a joke so she doesn't feel too embarrassed about what she just said.

"Shut up." She laughs, swatting at me with her hand. I go back to throwing items of clothing into the bag and discarding the old ones, while Tris wanders over to my window, peering outside, seemingly watching the sun set.

But as I close the doors to my closet, the familiar sound of tyres screeching against the driveway outside can be heard and I freeze, my heart thumping hard against my ribcage. Tris heard it too and spins around, her stormy grey eyes wide in alarm.

"Is that your dad? I thought you said he would be out of town?" She hisses, grabbing onto my arm.

The front door swings open and I hear the sound of glass smashing, presumably some kind of glass bottle filled with whatever he has decided to intoxicate himself with today. We don't have long before he manages to stagger up the stairs, and if he finds us we're screwed. Well, if he finds _her_.

"Get in here." I say, dragging her towards my closet, reopening the doors to push her inside. It's just big enough to fit her in, if she curls up real small.

I crouch down a little and rest a hand against her cheek, her skin cold against my own. "Please.. promise me that you'll stay in here no matter what you hear. Can you promise me that, Tris?" I ask, my voice rough and panicked. She nods slowly, looking confused and conflicted, but she can clearly see my expression and agrees nonetheless.

I stand up again and close the doors, obscuring her from view. Right on cue, I hear his voice shouting up at me from downstairs. "Tobias? Is that you boy? Where the hell have you been?"

My hands start to shake as I hear his sloppy footsteps begin to climb the stairs, and I wipe my hands on my pants, trying to steady my breathing.

The door swings open and there he stands, a fresh beer can clasped in his hand, the other clenched into a tight fist. I stare into his eyes, they are so dark that they appear to be black, like pits in his skull.

"Where the fuck have you been, boy?" He snaps, stepping into the room. "It's been.. two weeks since you disappeared. I was hoping that you'd decided to run away, or better yet, drowned yourself in a lake somewhere."

"Don't worry, I'll be out of your hair again soon. I just came to get a few things." I say, fighting to keep my voice strong and loud. _Tris is here_ , I remind myself. _I can't get myself locked in a closet or knocked_ _out. Not now. Not while she's here to witness it._

"Oh, but maybe I should make sure that you stay away for good? It's for your own good, after all, Tobias."

I back away from him until I hit the wall, unable to go any further. I watch as he discards the can onto my dresser and reaches for his belt, unwinding it slowly, taunting me. Despite being totally shit faced, he knows exactly what he's doing, and is using my fear of him against me.

"I didn't expect you to cower, Tobias," he spits. "You're just like your mother. Just as useless, just as spineless. Don't you see I'm doing this to make you better? Don't you understand?" His words all blur together in a slur of incoherent syllables. I want to fight back, to yell, to scream, to just do _something_. But I can't, and I know that. It'll make everything so much worse, I just have to take it. I always just have to take it. No arguments, no pleading, no nothing. It's always been that way.

So I do what I've had to do almost every day for the past nine years - I take off my shirt and turn around, my back towards him. I clutch at the sides of my desk so tightly that my knuckles turn a startling shade of white, and I screw my eyes closed, awaiting the pain that is sure to follow as the belt snaps against my skin.

And sure enough, it comes.

I purse my lips together to keep me from shouting out in pain; he doesn't like it when I do that, and he comes down twice as hard. Slash after slash is afflicted onto my back, and black spots begin to filter into my vision, but I grit my teeth and force myself to stay conscious.

Eventually nothing follows and I sink to my knees, choking on air, my forehead resting against the hard oak of my desk.

"I'm going to the bar, and I want your sorrry ass out of my house by the time I return." I faintly hear him shout as he staggers out of my room and back down the stairs, and I completely rest my weight against the desk as the door slams closed, and I know that he has left.

Tears cloud my vision but I blink them away - I refuse to let that fucker win. He wants me to feel all this pain, he wants me to break down. But I can't, and I won't. I'm stronger than that.. I have to be.

Behind me, I hear the slow creak of my closet doors open, and I remember that Tris is there, and just witnessed the whole thing. I manage to sit down properly and raise my head to look at her.

I expect to see her looking at me in pity, silently telling me that she feels sorry for me, and that I'm some kind of kicked puppy she needs to protect. But how she is looking at me right now, is nothing like what I expected.

Her cheeks are noticeably tear stained, but her eyes are fierce and cold and hard, like she could kill somebody by just staring at them for too long. Her posture is pulled taut, and she stands at attention, like she is ready to pounce any second. She looks strong and steady, and she looks at me not with pity, but with respect, which is something I don't understand. How could she have any respect left for me after having watched that?

She kneels down in front of me and places a small, gentle hand on my shoulder, looking up at me, her eyes burning into mine. "You continue to amaze me every single day, you know." She says quietly, her voice laced with something I can't put my finger on. She sounds angry, of course, but she also sounds gentle, like she's approaching a wild animal that's escaped its enclosure. I feel like that sometimes.

Her words sink in and I continue to look at her, trying to figure out whether she's serious or not. I can't seem to work out the meaning behind that sentence, but I can barely even remember my whole name due to the pain striking every nerve in my body.

I allow her to help me over to the bed where I lie on my stomach, burying my face into my pillow to muffle the scream I am dying to release, but don't dare to. I hear her leave the room for a couple minutes, but then she returns, and something wet and warm presses down gingerly onto my back, soothing the cuts.

I lie patiently as she dabs at the injuries with what I assume to be a wet flannel, and ignore the pain as she does so. I need these to get cleaned up, and then apply the usual ointment to ensure they don't get infected.

After she's cleaned up the blood, I direct her to where I keep my back cream, and she retrieves it quickly. I release a sigh as I feel her small hands massage it into my back, warily, as if she doesn't know whether to touch me or not. I don't know if that's because she's scared of hurting me, or just scared in general.

"What- what did you mean when you said you were amazed by? What part of that amazed you?" I manage to stammer out as she continues to slather my cuts up with the cream that soothes and somewhat numbs my back.

"You... you've been through all of that over and over again, and here you are. I don't know what I'd do if I was in your position, Four. You're so strong," she whispers. "I'm-I'm so sorry that I never noticed, I could've done something, helped you somehow..."

"You couldn't have done anything, and you know that, Tris. I'm fine, I'll be fine. He's gone now."

As she stops rubbing in the cream, I feel a small kiss being planted between my shoulder blades, and then the soft pair of lips are gone, and that space of skin feels oddly cold now.

She leaves the room again, presumably to put away the flannel and the cream, but as always, she joins me again rather quickly. By now I've manoeuvred to lie on my side so I can face her, despite the pain it causes my back.

"So.. Tobias, huh?" She asks, fiddling with the hem of her sweatshirt, nervously.

"Mmm. Tobias Eaton, that's my actual name," I confirm. "Y-you can call me that if you'd like.. it's been a while since I've heard it from anybody apart from him."

"Okay, _Tobias_." She says, giving me a small smile, and I enjoy the way it rolls off her tongue with ease, and savour the tingles that reach my toes.

Our eyes lock, but this time something is different. A new feeling has overtaken my mind, and this time it's hard to ignore. This girl, this beautiful, kind girl, has seen every part of my life, and still looks at me like that. I didn't even know somebody like her would even look my way at all.. does she feel the way I do about whatever weird thing we have going? Or is she just being polite? Am I misreading the signs?

I don't have much time to think about it, though, because a warm, soft pair of lips have landed on mine. They barely even graze my own, but I feel fireworks exploding in my head, almost deafening me from the impact.

Is she seriously kissing me right now?

But all too quickly it's over and she's pulled away, her pale skin flushed pink with embarrassment. She looks as shocked as I feel.

"I'll go get you some water." She chokes out before fleeing the room rather quickly, and shutting the door behind her.

I flop back onto my stomach and close my eyes, biting my lip. Did that really just happen, or am I hallucinating? Maybe the pain is making me do funny things?

 _No_ \- the feel of her mouth on mine felt too good and too real to be a hallucination. But by the way she practically ran off, I'm forced to take it as a regret in her part? Or maybe she didn't like it?

I don't know, but I do know that it's about to get a lot more complicated from now on.

 **-oo0oo-**

I must have fallen asleep, because what feels like a few hours later, my eyes snap open and the room is dark. The shutters on the window have been closed, and I am tucked securely under the sheets of my bed.

Tris lies next to me, I realise, a few inches away, keeping a good distance between us. She's wide awake, her eyes trained on the ceiling above, unmoving, unblinking. A silent tear rolls down her cheek, and she makes no move to wipe it away.

"Tris," I whisper, and she slowly moves her head to look at me. "Why are you crying?"

"I've messed everything up with you, haven't I? I shouldn't have kissed you! I was stupid and let my feelings get in the way. I mean, you're injured and I took advantage of you and-"

"Woah, calm down, okay?" I cut off her rambling. "You don't have to apologise or feel bad for anything. I.. I don't regret the kiss. I don't know what it means, and I know it's going to take a lot of figuring out. But we're in this together, right?"

She doesn't respond, only nods in understanding, and returns to staring at the ceiling. Sighing, I pull her towards me so she's pressed right up against my chest - the closet we've ever been, I'm sure.

"Please don't make me say goodbye." She says against my bare chest, her lips vibrating next to my skin.

Having her this close.. I can't even explain.. does she know the effect she has on me? I've never wanted to admit it to myself, but I don't have much of a choice now. I'm done with avoiding things. And I have to face these feelings I have for her head-on.

"Where else am I going to go, Tris?" I say softly.

This is a strange situation, but now I'm all the more determined to make it out of this alive. Now we just have to put our plan into action and bring down the psychos who are doing everything they can to try and hunt us down.

It's go time.

 **-oo0oo-**

 **Authors Note:**

 **Another update for you guys! Yes, I finally made them kiss! I felt like the build up had done its job, and I'm sure a lot of you guys were eager for it to happen too. Also, this will be a pretty short story, maybe 14-17 chapters long?**

 **Thank you so much for 60+ reviews! That's crazy! I would love to get 100 by the time my story has been completed, and I am also eager to see how you feel the story is going so far! So please leave a review!**

 **\- GuiltyMind**


	9. Chapter 9

**"Killing The Cliche"**

 **Rated T/M (mild sexual content, violence and language)**

 **Chapter 9 (Tris' POV)**

 **-oo0oo-**

I watch Tobias approach his father, who is passed out in the entrance hall, his grey hair messy and a beer can still resting in his limp hand. He nudges him with the toe of his sneaker, and I inhale sharply.

"You might wake him, be careful." I whisper.

"Ha, wake up? He won't be conscious until noon, at least." His voice is cold, unfeeling. It's a side of him that I knew existed, and it's only weird to me because I haven't seen his intimidating persona come out for a while. But he has a right to be that way, after everything that he's been through.

I just can't believe I never saw it. But now, when I look at him, I see nothing else. His eyes are the same ocean blue they've always been, but now it's become clear to me the pain behind them, and the horrors they hold. But knowing all of that, it makes me like him all the more.

I can admit that I like him. After last night.. well, there's no going back now. In a moment of idiotic courage, I kissed him, and possibly ruined everything we worked towards just to have a friendship. But it made me feel slightly better when he comforted me last night - maybe.. maybe I haven't messed everything up, after all. At least not completely.

He turns to face me once more, and his face softens a little. "You ready for this? There's no going back if this goes wrong." He says, watching me carefully, as if I'll explode any second, and honestly, I wouldn't be surprised.

"What have we got to lose?" I counter, my voice flat.

He gives a small nod in response, and then turns towards the front door, and I follow quickly. I don't want to stick around here any longer than we already have.. thinking about all the things that have happened to him here. I can never even begin to imagine what he's been through, and now it's time for me to be there for him, rather than the other way around.

We walk carefully down the driveway, the hoods of our jackets pulled up, so not to draw any attention to ourselves by anybody recognising us.

Instead of heading for the train station like we usually would, we go in the direction of the nearest bus station; a few blocks east of our neighbourhood. We're heading downtown, and getting a bus will be the quickest way there. Luckily it's not far, as the walk is already seeming very awkward. It's now that I truly start to believe that I really have fucked our new friendship up.

I shouldn't have kissed him, I know that, of course I do. But I can't take it back now. I have to deal with the aftermath, and I can't run away from it. But we slept together closely last night, closer than we have ever been, and he didn't seem to push me away or shut me out in anyway. But maybe now he's realising what really happened between us, and has decided that he doesn't feel that way about me, and that I overstepped the line we set. And now he's keeping his distance. I really did blow it.

But as much as I want to crawl into a bed, burrow under a blanket and feel sorry for myself, I don't have the time - we have to put our plan into action, and we have to execute it well too. I have other things to think about, so I shake my head lightly and keep in step with Tobias as we near the bus station.

It's pretty early, but there are still people waiting around the station, checking their watches and tapping away on their cellphones, probably eager to catch a bus and get to work or something. I sit down on a steel bench and Tobias wanders a little bit away from me, his eyes scanning aimlessly over a large map stand. I twine my fingers together in my lap and clench them together, keeping my eyes set steadily in front of me.

"Are you sure your friend will even be home? I mean, it's a school day, right?" He asks finally, but keeps his eyes on the map, not even bothering to look at me.

"She'll be home, trust me." I say, keeping my voice firm. I know that Piper won't have gone to school, seeing as it's a Friday. She has double French, which means every Friday she bunks off and hangs out with her college boyfriend and his friends in his apartment. She's failing French obviously, but she doesn't seem to care.

She would always try and get me to join her, but being the committed student I was, I always declined. And I say _was_ , because I'm not that girl anymore.

I'm not the girl who would rather do extra Math homework than go out with friends, and I'm not the girl who put 100% into everything she did. I don't even know who I am anymore, but I know that I've changed. For the better, I don't know. But I don't have the time to figure it out, so I guess it'll come to me in time. I hope.

The bus that'll take us downtown pulls up, and we head towards the small line that's formed, waiting to get on. We pay the driver a small sum of cash and head to the back of the bus, sliding into the seats there. We sit beside each other, but I shift as close to the window as I can, so that I don't make him uncomfortable, and also because if I'm touching him I'll be more inclined to keep thinking about him, and I have to stop letting him distract me so easily.

I shift my eyes to what's outside as the bus pulls away from the station, heading for downtown. The windows have fogged up a little due to condensation, but I wipe away some of the steam with my sleeve, dampening the cuff.

I'm not sure how I feel about seeing Piper again, especially if her boyfriend will be there too. She always seems to act so differently around other people, at least in comparison to when she was alone with me. She'll most likely be pissed that I haven't responded to any of her messages, but that can't be helped; I'm sure she'll understand when I've explained everything to her.

We realised that in order to get the police involved, we have to ensure that everyone is safe and aware of what's going on right now. So I knew that the first person my parents would go after would be Piper, considering that's the friend that I mention so frequently, and they know a lot about her - where she lives, her parents work place etc. So that's who we decided to tell first, and I just hope she's willing to listen. It'll sound crazy, but I really hope she believes us.

I met Piper in our Sophomore year, and our friendship was an unexpected one. She was one of the most popular girls in our grade, and had everyone wrapped around her little finger. I was a shy, tiny thing with good grades and shitty social skills.

But at the beginning of the year, our Chem teacher assigned new lab partners, and we were paired together. At first she was kind of hostile towards me, and never made effort to get to know me or to even be friendly towards me. But eventually she softened up, and that's when we stared to talk more.

After that we were pretty much joined at the hip. She told me everything, and I did the same. It was just us in our own little bubble. She helped bring me out of my shell, and that meant I was more willing to sign up for extra curricular clubs; I found it much easier to converse with people I may not neccesarily know.

We were the same as juniors, but when we went into Senior year.. well, I felt things change between us. A few more girls in our grade began to hang around with us during lunch, and after school too. I didn't mind much, as they were all fairly nice people, and I had nothing against them.

But then they started to take interest in other things that were far from the shopping trips and slumber parties we were all used to - parties, alcohol, and even weed. The Piper that I know now is not the one I used to know back in Sophomore year.. and I'm not sure how I feel about that.

I was never on the same wave length as them, though. And although I pretended that I didn't hear, I would always hear them mutter to each other how 'boring and lame' I was when I constantly refused the offer of cigarettes and weed.

We never argued, though. But I think that was down to the fact that I wouldn't stand up to her. I've always been the person to solve problems rather than cause them, and she knew that. Looking back, it's kind of obvious that she used me a little, but none of that matters anymore.

There are things bigger than Piper going on right now, and I have to make sure they're all safe from my psycho fake parents. If I do that, we can finally go to the police and get this sorted out, once and for all.

The bus shudders to a halt at various stops, and people file on and off robotically, clutching to-go cups of coffee or energy drinks like a life preserver. The buildings around us start to become more and more familiar, until the local college comes into view; the one of which Piper's boyfriend, Logan, attends. He lives in a scabby student apartment building just across the street, so I nudge Four and we stand up to get off at the stop coming up.

This part of town isn't very charming, I must admit. The college is a last resort kind of place, for those who did shit in their final exams and couldn't get in anywhere else due to that, but can just scrape by to attend this college.

There are sandwhich papers littered around the sidewalk, and there's a group of teenagers huddled on the corner in hoodies, lighting up cigarettes. A homeless man sits against a wall nearby, petting his dog tiredly.

Guilt pulls at my stomach. I hate the fact that there are so many people around here with no place to stay, so they end up just crashing on the streets. So while we all sleep safe and warm in our beds, they're left to face whatever is outside. It's hardly fair, is it?

I dig around in my pocket and pull out a five dollar bill, nibbling at my lip as I walk away from Four and towards the man. He looks up as I approach, and his eyes burn into mine, not with anger, but with something I can't place. I drop the five dollars into his hat that lies on the ground next to him and give him a soft smile. He returns it, giving me a large goofy grin and a sincere thank you.

I wander back over to Four who is looking at me in curiosity, but I wave it off. I don't have time to try and figure out what he's thinking right now.

"There," I say, pointing across to the apartment block that I'm sure Logan lives in. "That's it."

We cross the street and climb the stone steps that lead up to the front entrance, which is wide open. I scan my eyes over the buzzer panel until I find Logan's name, next to apartment 9b. So we head towards the staircase, as it's a safer bet than taking the shuddering, groaning elevator that's pretty much a death trap.

We climb the stairs in silence, and there's so much whirling around my head that my ears begin to ring. Apartment 9b is at the end of the hall, and I can hear the loud heavy metal music as soon as we step into the long stretch of hallway.

We approach it and Four knocks loudly, presumably to make sure they hear us over the volume of the music. A minute after, the door swings open to reveal Piper.

She's wearing a tight crop top that hugs her curves, and shows off her tanned stomach and belly piercing that she got last month. She's also wearing a pair of the shortest denim shorts I've seen in my life, and she's bare foot. I also notice the joint in her hand, and the smell of marijuana that hits me square in the face.

"Tris?" She asks, incredulously. Then she looks to my right where Tobias stands, back pulled straight, face straight and naturally intimidating. "Uh.. Four? Why is he with you? And why are you even here?" She wants to know.

"It's a long story, but we need you to listen because it's important." I say, shaking my head.

"Okay, well, come in."

Piper steps aside and invites us in, and we comply, only hesitating for a second or two. The apartment is pretty much open plan, so the living room, kitchen and bedroom area is all in one space. Logan is sprawled out on the dirty couch watching the TV in front of him, rolling a joint as he does so.

"Logan, baby, we have guests." Piper says sweetly, flopping down onto the couch next to him. His head snaps up and his eyes set on me, and then shift to Tobias.

"Nice to see you again, Tris," he smirks, and I resist the urge to walk straight out of this apartment and never look back. I have to do this, I remind myself. "And who are you? Her boyfriend or something?"

Piper snorts. "Ha, like he'd ever date anybody. Apparently no one around these parts is good enough for him." She says, with an edge to her voice. I know that it's partly the weed talking, and partly the surprise to see us together - after all, he barely gave her a second glance after four years of attending high school together.

"I'm Four, and whether we are dating or not is not what we came here to talk about." Tobias replies firmly, crossing his arms over his chest, his jaw clenched.

"Look, Piper, we came here to warn you. A lot of stuff has happened and you're in danger." I tell her, getting back to the topic we did come here to discuss.

"Danger? What kind of danger?" She asks before taking a drag of her joint, watching me closely.

"My parents... well, they're not who they say they are. We've been on the run for a few weeks and I had to get rid of my cellphone, which is why I haven't answered your texts," I explain. "We need to get the police involved in this, Piper, but my parents said that if we do contact them, they'll hurt all of my friends... starting with you, of no doubt."

"What have your parents done? Why would they want to hurt anyone?"

"It's a very long story, and we don't have a lot of time, but I need you to stay here and keep off social media. Don't post things about the apartment address or who you're with. Please... they're serious about their threats." I say, my voice laced with desperation.

"Look, Tris, if this is some kind of sick joke -"

"It's not! You have to believe me!" I say, my voice growing louder.

Piper stands from the couch, passing her weed off to Logan, who is still staring at Four, presumably sizing him up. "I want you to leave," she spits as she approaches. "Do you really expect me to believe all of this bullshit? What have I ever done to you, Tris? Why did you come here, huh? To embarrass me? To make me look like a mug?"

"No! I _told_ you already, I came to warn you!"

"I don't know what childish fantasy you're living in, but leave me out of it. You were always a bit of an attention seeker, let's be honest. Is this another one of your bids for attention? Because I'm getting so sick of you!" She says, her eyes hardening with every word that tumbles out of her mouth.

It's at this point that I would usually apologise and back off, even if it wasn't my fault in the first place. But I don't want to. Why should I apologise for wanting to protect her?

"I understand it's a lot to take in, but I am not lying, Piper. And when have I ever tried to get attention from anybody? For the three years I've known you I've just existed in your shadow, watching on as you got everything from everyone. I was pretty much invisible." I say, fighting to keep my voice as steady as I can, although a mixture of anxiety and panic and sheer anger is starting to build up inside of me, clawing away at my skin, boiling up my blood.

"Wow, look at you, finally standing up for yourself and telling me how you really feel. Well, come on, keep it coming. Unburden yourself!"

"You know why we're best friends? It's because I do whatever you want all the time!" I yell, my fists clenched at my sides.

"No, Tris, we're best friends because I'm fun and you're boring." She retorts, her face close to mine. In a moment of rage, I shove her shoulders back so she staggers away from me. I don't want her near me right now. Or ever. Ever would be fine with me too.

Logan stands then, discarding his drugs. "Yo man, can you try controlling your little chihuahua?" He spits, not to me but to Tobias.

"I don't know, can you try shutting the fuck up." He flings back, his muscles tensing and I watch as his jaw clenches. This definitely didn't go how I had hoped. "We're going to leave now, but take Tris's advice and stay here. Whatever you choose to believe, what we are telling you is the truth. But it's up to you to listen to our warning or not." He says with a tone of finality, like this is the end of this increasingly heated conversation.

"Whatever, just get the fuck out of my apartment." Logan scoffs, stepping forward so that he is nose to nose with Tobias. Well, sort of. Logan is a lot smaller, so he has to tilt his head a little to look him in the eye. I'm not sure whether to laugh or telling him how dumb he is to think he could scare Tobias. I mean, _really_.

 **-oo0oo-**

By the time we leave the apartment for good, Tobias has grazed knuckles and we left Logan behind with a bloody nose. It didn't take long for him to snap and throw a punch, and then Tobias just lost it.

I know that he has trouble with his anger, and sometimes it scares me a little how fast he can just turn on somebody like that. But I know that he'd never hurt me. Even in his worst fits of rage, he's never once laid a finger on me, and I'm confident he never will.

We step outside back into the fresh air and I take a large inhale, closing my eyes briefly. What _happened_ in there?

"I'm so sorry," I say quickly, and I feel my heart rate begin to get faster and faster, a warning sign that I'm about to get a serious anxiety overload. "I shouldn't have taken you there, and I shouldn't have gone either. I should've known she wouldn't believe us, that she'd be such a bitch. Now you're probably so mad at me, and you have every right to be. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry -"

"Tris," he says, cutting me off. I close my eyes and try to control my breathing, but it's almost impossible. After a few seconds, I feel him take my hand in his, and then it's pressed against his chest, above his heart, and I can feel it's steady beats against my palm. "Breathe with me, it's okay. I've got you. I'm not mad. Just breathe."

After a minute or two of just feeling his heart beat against my hand and trying to match his breathing pattern, I feel calmer and less anxious, and I force myself to open my eyes.

"I really am sorry." I whisper, looking up into the ocean blue eyes that are staring down at me intently.

"Stop saying that. You have no reason to apologise. It's _me_ who needs to say sorry to _you_." He says, sighing as he sits down on the bottom step of the apartment building. I sit down beside him, frowning in confusion. Why would he have to apologise to me?

"I've been an ass all day, and I've barely said a word to you since... well, you know." He explains, looking down at his feet in shame. "I just - well, I didn't know if you still felt the same now, as you did then. Maybe it was just an 'in the moment' kind of thing? That what I thought, anyway. But, do you regret it?"

Do I regret it? At first I did. I realised how stupid I was, and how badly I was now fucking everything up. But now I'm not so sure. I've always ran away from a lot of things in my life, swept them under the rug and pretended I didn't have anything to worry about. But maybe it's time to change that. Do I regret it? No, I don't think I do.

"No," I answer softly. "Do you wish I hadn't done it?"

"No, I'm glad you did.. I'm sorry for being a dick about this whole thing. I'm just not sure where to go from here. This stuff is new to me, y'know."

"It's new to me too." I tell him.

He turns to look at me then, his body angling towards me. "I like you, Tris." He says confidently. "I just wish I had figured it out before all of this, because then I could've gone about this the right way. A cheesy dinner date, maybe a movie. I could've walked you home afterwards, like they do in the movies. Real cliche and all. But I can't do that, at least not yet. But.. tell me straight, Tris. Do you feel the same about me?"

Just like that, he has declared himself, and I don't know how to respond. My cheeks are warm, and a weird feeling has spread through me, making me tingle. Could he seriously doubt that I wouldn't feel the same? I wouldn't have kissed him if I didn't feel anything.

"I like you too, Tobias. Of course I do." I admit, and I can feel myself blushing even harder now.

For a second his crystal eyes are on mine, and he's quiet. Then he touches my face and leans in close, brushing my lips with his. He then grins and presses his mouth to mine.

This is our second kiss, but it's much relaxed and slower than the first. I feel better - kissing him now, I know that he feels the same, and that I'm not overstepping any boundaries.

I wrap an arm around him, sliding my hand up to his neck and into his short hair. For a few minutes we kiss, on the cold stone steps, the loud noises of downtown surrounding us, but I can barely hear them.

And right here, right now, I'm finally feeling something that resembles clarity.

 **-oo0oo-**

 **Authors Note:**

 **Hey guys, sorry for the slow update, but I made sure to add a big FourTris moment to make up for it! I wanted to make them kiss again, but this time both of them are ready and sure of this step in their continuously progressing relationship.**

 **70 reviews! That's seriously crazy! Thank you guys for all the feedback and amazing comments you've left regarding my story, and I really hope you enjoyed this chapter too, and keep leaving reviews to let me know what you think :)**

 **\- GuiltyMind**


	10. Chapter 10

**"Killing The Cliche"**

 **Rated T/M (violence and language)**

 **Chapter 10 (Tris' POV)**

 **-oo0oo-**

This runaway business is a lot harder than it looks.

We can't go anywhere in fear that we could be seen, especially now we are back in our hometown. Not only do we have to be wary of my fake parents, but now we have Marcus to worry about too. I don't want to run into him anytime soon. I may end up doing something I regret. Although, I doubt I'd regret it at all.

So this is what we have come to - sitting in a dark alley way, hidden out of sight by large steel trash cans, similar to the ones we've hidden in once before.

Tobias managed to snag his dad's cellphone before we left his house earlier on today, and he thankfully managed to crack the passcode too.

"I wonder what that fucker kept locked up in this thing," he mutters, clutching the device tightly in his hand. "I'm willing to bet he's downloaded a dozen snuff films, seems like something he would watch."

"You don't think they have this tracked too?" I ask worriedly, gnawing at my thumbnail.

"Nah, why would they? Who would suspect Marcus of anything?"

"It doesn't feel right having that with us, though. I can't help but think.." I trail off, unsure of how to finish that sentence. But I don't need to; he understands right away.

"Nothing is going to happen to us, Tris. We're so close to getting the help we need, we just need to hold on a little longer, can you do that?" Tobias says, looking away from the cellphone and over at me, his eyes softening.

"I can try," I say, nodding. "But what are we going to do about all of this? Piper didn't believe us, so what makes you think anyone else will? They'll think we're crazy!"

"I know, I know. But what else are we going to do? Like you said before, whoever the hell is after us right now means business, and aren't going to go down easily. If you want them to be safe, we have to try." He says, running his long fingers through his dark, cropped hair.

I have the urge to run my own hands through his hair, but I keep them folded in my lap. Now isn't the time to get distracted, we have to come up with some sort of backup plan since our other one failed.

"Maybe we just have to trust that Piper will tell them all about what just happened, and then they'll at least have some knowledge of what's happening, even if they think it's all bullshit," I say, letting my head drop back and rest against the brick wall behind us. "And if not.. well, it's their own faults for not taking us seriously! I've never lied in my life, so why now would I choose to? They should know me better than that, shouldn't they?"

"Do you really mean that?" He asks softly - well, as soft as he can, anyway.

"Yes," I growl, but then my shoulders slump and I bow my head. "No. No, of course I don't. I probably wouldn't believe me either."

"Part of what you said is logical, though - maybe we should just let Piper spill it to her friends, she does have the biggest mouth in school, after all."

"Maybe." I say, a sigh escaping my mouth. "This all just seems so surreal, y'know? This kind of stuff doesn't just happen! I'm half expecting a hidden camera crew to jump out at any moment, telling us that we've just been punked."

"Mmm, that doesn't sound very appealing. I've always been a little camera shy." Tobias chuckles, shaking his head.

"How come?" I ask, furrowing my brow. How can someone with looks like his shy away from a camera?

"I've never enjoyed having my picture taken, I'm not really sure why. Maybe it's got something to do with all the photos I have been in - fake ass family pictures, all of us smiling as if everything is okay." He explains, letting his eyes close briefly, perhaps trying to regain his composure. I reach over and take his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I know what that feels like," I say. "All of the stuff that I thought made us a family was all lies. I guess we can relate on that level, huh?"

"I guess so." He chuckles, bringing my hand to his lips and softly brushing them against my skin.

"Can-can I ask you something?" I stammer, nibbling on my lip, nervously.

"Anything, you know that."

"Well.. I was just wondering.. what are we exactly?" I ask. "Boyfriend and girlfriend? Friends with benefits? I -"

" _Stop_." Tobias says firmly. "There is no way in hell we are friends with benefits. You mean way more to me than that, Tris. So much fucking more. And if you're into the dating thing, then let's do it. If you'd rather take things slow, that's fine too. Whatever you're comfortable with. I don't want to pressure you into things, I know how stressful relationships can be and I don't want to be the cause of your anxiety."

"I want you," I say softly. "I just wish it hadn't taken me this long to realise it."

"Good, because I want you too." He counters, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a smile that reaches his eyes, making my stomach flip.

I lean my temple against his shoulder and he goes back to fiddling with the stolen cellphone, looking through folders and apps, things that he shouldn't be doing. But I'm not going to stop him. His dad doesn't deserve any kind of privacy after everything he's done.

My thoughts abandon Marcus and his belt - I don't want to frustrate myself more than I have already; it's not worth it, not right now, anyway. But after all of this is over, I'm going to do everything I can to make sure that Tobias never sees him again.

But we have to sort all of this mess out before I can think about that. I think about our conversation a few minutes ago - perhaps we should just go to the police, and just hope that Piper has gossiped to her friends about what happened between us. And knowing her, she was on her phone as soon as we left. But what if they don't see sense either?

This whole thing seems impossible. If we go to the police, the people around us could get hurt, but if we keep quiet, Tobias and I could get hurt. It's like a war between my head and my heart.

I know that we have to tell someone, to get the FBI or something involved, but how am I supposed to do that knowing what I'm risking? Piper was a bitch today, and I think I finally saw her true colours, but that does mean I just throw her to the wolves?

This is real life shit, and once something is done, I can't take that back. But I can't let Tobias get hurt, he's been there for me through everything these past few weeks, and without him, I'm positive that I wouldn't still be breathing. And if he got hurt, or worse... well, I'd never forgive myself.

I can't win in this situation, that much is obvious. But I've been avoiding this decision for a while now, and I can't do that any longer. We don't have a lot of time, and I need to decide our next move as quickly as possible.

"Hey, are you hungry?" Tobias asks, breaking me out of my cloud of thoughts.

"Um, not really." I say truthfully; my stomach is in knots and I can't even think about food right now.

"Well, I'm starving. I'm just going to go into that store across the street and get something," he says whilst standing up, brushing his pants down with his hands. Noticing the concerned look that I probably have on my face, he leans down and kisses the crown of my head. "I'll be fine. If I'm not back in five, panic."

I watch his retreating figure as he leaves the alley way and slips into the populated street. I stand too, unable to keep still any longer, and pace around a little, but make sure that I'm not visible to anybody passing by the entrance to the alley.

I lean my head against the cool brick of the wall and take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. I think I know what I have to do, but I'm not looking forward to the consequences that are going to come with it. But what choice do I have? There's an obvious answer to all of this, but it's not an easy one.

Tobias returns a few minutes later with an energy bar, and we sit down until neither of us can bear it any longer.

Discreetly, we leave the alley way and join the main crowds on the street. There are a lot of people out today, or maybe there isn't - it just looks like a lot seeing as we're downtown rather than in the usual places to hang out nearer to our neighbour hood. I don't tend to travel downtown a lot, so I wouldn't know.

"Where are we going?" Tobias asks me; a simple question, but I understand what he really means - _are we going on the run again, or are we dealing with this once and for all?_

"Just.. walk with me for a while." I say quietly, slipping my hand into his, needing some kind of support to depend on. Luckily, he doesn't protest and hangs onto my hand, following me where I lead him, winding down multiple different streets, not even sure where I'm headed myself. I like that he trusts me. I like that he makes me feel as though I'm worth trusting. In a mess where trust is scarce, it means a lot to me.

I never understood why people held hands, but when his thumb brushes over my skin tenderly it sends a shiver through me, and I understand now.

"I remember this place," Tobias says, slowing to a stop as we stand outside a dive of a bar, with a middle-aged couple drunkenly making out and smoking cigarettes. I guess they start their drinking late afternoon, seeing as the sun is only just beginning to go down. "I remember around the first month of being here, Mom and I drove by this place on the way back from the store, and Marcus was there. Drunk, of course. But that wasn't why mom was so mad.. he had a woman with him. And they were doing more than friendly drinking, and even as a little kid, I noticed that."

"What happened?" I ask hesitantly, unsure whether to even ask at all - I don't want him to shut me out, like I've always know him to do to everybody who ever tried to get close to him.

"She just drove away, acting like she never saw it, chatting to me like she was before, maybe hoping that I'd do the same and forget about it," he admits as we keep walking. "But when we got home, she went to make us food for dinner, and I sat in front of the TV. And even though I had the volume pretty loud, I could still hear her crying. She loved him, which is what pisses me off the most. She loved him, but he still beat her and yelled and cheated. I haven't been by that bar since that day."

"Some people just don't realise how good they've got it, and only realise it when everything falls apart." I sigh, shaking my head.

"What do you mean?" Tobias prods, his eyebrows pulled together slightly.

"Well, before I realised that my parents were frauds, I guess I took a lot of things for granted. I had a house, a bed, nice things... but now all of that's gone, and I wish I could have it back again," I say, honestly. "I know my parents are bad people, but they weren't so bad when I was living with them, y'know? They took care of me, which is weird - why didn't they just kill me and get it over with? They would've gotten away with it, but they chose to keep me alive. I just want to know _why_."

"Who can really look inside the mind of a criminal and understand it's logic? They kept you because maybe they were so sick they wanted a reminder of what they did, and I'm willing to bet they took pride in it. But I'm glad they kept you around.. otherwise we never would have met."

"I'm glad too." I agree, smiling up at him.

I don't know how we can even think about each other in that way, given the situation we're in, but we have these feelings, and maybe that's what is going to get us through this. I know that it's him who's powered me to get to where we are now, and I can't just ignore whatever it is that's going on between us. And evidently, Tobias couldn't either.

"So," he says, clearing his throat. "Want to tell me where we are going, or is this some kind of guessing game?"

"Could be." I smirk, pulling him down another street, now familiar with where we are. _Not far now_.

We walk for another five minutes before stopping, finally arriving at our surprise destination.

"Are you sure about this, Tris?" He asks, glancing over at me. "I mean, I'm down for whatever you want to do.. but there's no going back after this."

"I know that, and I'm sure. We can't keep running from this. We have to be selfish now - it's clear that no one is going to listen to us, so we have to save ourselves. And if this is the way to do it, then so be it." I confirm, nodding in certainty. This is it, this is where I make my big decision. And I'm going to stick by it, even if everything continues to fall apart. I just hope Tobias is with me on that too, but something tells me that he will be - he _is_.

"Let's do this." He says, giving my small hand a squeeze.

Together we cross the parking lot and climb the large flight of stone steps that lead up to the front entrance doors. I push them open with my spare hand and we step inside, a heavy feeling sitting on my chest, but I ignore it.

I've never liked places like these; with their overly-polished floors, the uniformed workers, the heavy security. I feel like the walls are closing in, but Tobias's hand is still in mine, and I use it to keep myself calm, to guide me back to reality. I can't have a freak out now. Now is the time to be strong, and strong is what I shall be.

We cross the room to the front desk, where an officer sits at a computer, tapping away at the keyboard. When we reach the desk, he looks up from the PC and looks from me to Tobias.

"Can I help you?" He asks professionally, eyeing up our disheveled appearances, his gaze lingering on my nose that is still bruised from where I ran into a wall that time in Golden Heights.

Tobias looks over at me and we lock eyes. I hear his voice in my head, his warning from earlier. There's no going back after this.

I look away from him, and my eyes fall upon the officer once more. I take a deep breath and look him straight in the eye.

"My name is Tris Prior, and I went missing fourteen years ago."

 **-oo0oo-**

 **Authors Note:**

 **Hey! Sorry for the incredibly slow update! I had a bad case of writers block and I've had some stuff going on, so I really do apologise. We're almost at 80 reviews which is crazy! I can't believe the support you guys have given me throughout this story!**

 **Also, this is a very short chapter (sorry!) but there's a lot of dialogue between our couple, which I thought would be nice instead of the constant action.**

 **A lot of you have been wanting the story to be longer than 14-15 chapters, but that's just the way I've planned it out. But I will be writing a story after this one is complete, which will be much longer!**

 **As usual, the more reviews I get, the quicker I will try and update for you guys!**

 **\- GuiltyMind**


	11. Chapter 11

**"Killing The Cliche"**

 **Rated T/M (violence and language)**

 **Chapter 11 (Tris' POV)**

 **-oo0oo-**

" - and then we came here.. and it was a rough decision, but it had to be done. I can't let them get away with what they've done, and I'll do anything to help you find them." I say, finishing the last part of my very long story as the officer recorded it all.

It was hard, going back to when I was small and telling the events that have happened up until right now. All my childhood, I was being fed lies, and still was up until a few weeks ago. That really sucks.

"Thank you for your honesty, Tris. I know how hard that must have been for you." The female police officer says sympathetically, smiling at me from across the small table.

Shortly after arriving at the station, we were quickly taken to an interview room, and two officers were with us within minutes, shocked at the fact that I am alive, after all.

After five minutes of reassuring us that we will be brought back together as soon as possible, Tobias was taken away to another room by the male officer, to give his version of events. Obviously, we were very hesitant to leave one other, seeing as we've not left each other's side for a good couple of weeks. It's strange to not have him next to me, or at least in sight. It's a lot more daunting, that's for sure.

"So.. what now?" I ask, chewing anxiously at my thumbnail. "Can I see Four now?"

"We're going to make up a report on everything that you've told us, and then we'll take you somewhere safe. They won't get to you while we're around, don't worry about that," the kind officer assures me. "I will go check on your friend now, and if he's done with his interview I'll bring him in."

I thank her before she leaves the room, and then fall back in my chair, covering my face with both of my hands, sighing into them. I'm glad we've done this, but I've also got this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that is weighing me down, filling me with guilt. But I had to make a decision, and this was the right one. I just know it.

By some miracle, I managed to keep my composure as I told my story to the officer, but it was difficult. Not only did I have to sit through it alone, but I had to relive every fake ass memory that I have. But I did it. And now I just want to see Tobias, so I can reassure myself that he's okay.

It's stupid - I know for a fact that he's safe with another officer, in the same hallway, but my anxiety levels are raging out of control. I guess I've just gotten used to having him in sight all the time. But I have to get over that. He can look after himself, he's done it for years.

As I take my hands away from my face, the door opens up and I see Tobias, escorted by the officer who was interviewing him. I get up out of my seat and meet him half way, pulling him into a hug. I wind my arms around his waist and press my face into his chest, taking deep breaths, calming myself down. _He's_ _okay_ , I think to myself. _He's okay._

"We're not being separated again." He mumbles into my hair, cupping the back of my head and keeping me in place. He was worried just as much as I was. That thought makes a smile tug at my lips. He cares. I'm not yet sure if I love him, but I am sure that I want him safe, and I'll do whatever it takes to achieve that.

"Agreed." I whisper.

He pulls back and cups my face with his hands, stroking his thumb across my cheek idly. "Are you okay?" I murmur, looking up at him.

But before he can answer, the officer who brought him in clears his throat and we both turn at attention, puzzled. "We're going to go make up a report, but we'll be with you as soon as we can," he says. "In the mean time, you will remain here with the door locked. If you need anything, simply knock a few times and the officer outside will unlock it and attend to you. Does that sound okay?"

"Yes, thank you again." I say, nodding along with him. He gives me a curt nod before backing out of the room, and shortly after I hear the sound of a lock clicking.

"What happened? What did they ask? What did you tell them?" I ask frantically, only realising a second later that I'm practically throwing questions at him. He's probably just as overwhelmed as I am.

"Hey, calm down," he chuckles, placing both of his hands on my shoulders. "It was ok, really. They just asked me to give my version of events from the day I moved in next door to you, mainly focusing on the day we left for Golden Heights up until now. I told them everything they needed to know. We have nothing to hide, anyway."

"Did they ask about.. Marcus?"

He sighs a little, looking down at his feet as he runs a hand over his face. "They asked about my parents and wanted to know if they noticed anything suspicious whilst living there, but I just told him that we didn't suspect a thing. He doesn't even know that my mother isn't alive.. but he will soon." He tells me.

"What do you mean by that?" I ask, confused.

"Well, their cops, right? They're going to do background checks, look at everything that the system has on us. They'll find out then, but if they happen to bring up Marcus, I'll lie. I'm not telling them anything about what he did." He answers.

"How come?" I ask, sitting down in the chair I was previously sat in as I gave the friendly officer my statement.

"There's no point in bringing it up, Tris," he sighs. "What will it achieve? He's pretty high up in the government, as you may know, and they wouldn't believe me even if I did tell them. And besides, if Marcus did get arrested, where would I go when all of this is over? I'll have nowhere to go and nothing to hold on to."

He flops into the seat on the opposite side of the table and rubs the back of his neck with his hand, and I watch as his eyes close briefly, and his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath.

I forget sometimes that he is capable of being hurt - he's always so strong and brave, never letting his guard down. There's so much he keeps inside, and I know there's a lot more secrets bottled up in him, ones that I don't know, and the same goes for me too.

He puts on a brave face and the world just writes him off as someone who is okay, and that itself is not okay.

"You wouldn't have nothing," I say in a quiet voice. "You'd have me..."

He looks across at me, his deep blue eyes burning into mine. His face has softened, but his jaw is still clenched and I can sense the frustration coming off him in waves. But none of that matters, because the way he is looking at me right now.. well, nobody has ever looked at me that way, and I didn't think anyone could.

"And you'll have me," he says. "Always."

 **-oo0oo-**

When the officers return an hour later, their paperwork and statements all finished and written up officially, we are taken out of the interview room and into another wing of the station.

It's pretty much deserted, and consists of one room, with a couple metal chairs outside that are attached to the stone wall. There's an officer waiting outside a door to the left of the chairs, but she's dressed differently - more casual, rather than the full cop uniform that the officers interviewing us were wearing.

"What's going on?" I ask, warily, backing up a little.

"It's okay," the nice female officer - Tori, I think her name is - assures me. "This is our station nurse. She's just going to check up on you, seeing as you've been on the run for weeks now. You are under nourished, probably dehydrated, and possibly injured. She isn't going to hurt you."

"Can we at least go in together?" Tobias wants to know, his eyebrows knotted together. He's as apprehensive about this as I am, I can tell.

"It wouldn't be appropriate," the male officer says stiffly. "You can wait out here until the other is done and switch places. We understand that you are sensitive to being apart, but it won't be for too long."

"You don't understand anything." I growl, scowling. I've grown tired of people telling us that they understand, and they know what's best for us. They don't know a thing.

"Hey, it's going to be okay," Tori says, reaching out and resting a gentle hand on my elbow. "You'll only be a room apart, and it'll go quicker than you think. Nobody is going to hurt you in here, I can promise you that."

I flinch at the word promise; I've heard a lot of promises from a lot of people, and they all sound the same. But push hard enough, and they all prove to be empty. So what makes this any different? But I know she's right. We're safe here. It's just hard to get to grips with, considering I haven't been able to connect safety to anything for what seems like a long time.

They can't reach us while we're here, and I'm being stupid. There's only going to be one wall between us, and I need to stop with all these horrible thoughts, unsure of when the last time I see him will be. I don't think I could handle losing someone else. I'm sure that I'd just crumble under it all. But I have to be strong now. It's all going to be okay.

Slowly, I nod, and Tori smiles at me. "Everything is going to be all right." She assures me. And although I don't believe her, I sit myself down on the cold metal chair and watch as Tobias is lead into the room with the nurse, casting me a desperate look over his shoulder, which I respond to with a soft smile, of which I hope reassures him.

I knew this wouldn't be easy, but I'm more scared of what is going to happen if those fuckers get caught and we can be free to leave. Where am I going to go? Will Tobias still want me the way he does now? What about Marcus? Piper? Me?

There's still so much that I need to figure out, and I was stupid to think that going to the police would solve all of my problems. There's a lot that even they can't fix, and I'm scared to think about the future, about the aftermath of all this. I hate feeling like this; so powerless over everything.

I used to think that I had everything under control, that I was able to take the lead in my own life, but I was kidding myself. I never had any control, I was just being played and lied to and betrayed. Nothing has changed, and maybe it never will.

My head starts to ache and I put my head in my hands, ignoring the sharp pain in my chest, clawing away at my skin, burning like fire. My throat is beginning to constrict and breathing is quickly becoming difficult. I'm hot - too hot, touching my skin is like touching a flame. I need something, anything to hang on to, to reassure myself that it's going to be okay. But it's not, is it? Nothing is ever going to be the same, and I can't change that, which is what frustrates me the most about all of this.

I can't change a damn thing.

Black spots appear in my vision so I squeeze my eyes shut. Everything is silent then. No thoughts, no whirring of the overhead fan, no noise of a nearby electricity generator. I can't even hear my own heartbeat like I could two seconds ago. It's as if everything has been put on mute, and it's a nice feeling. My head is light, empty.

But that feeling is interrupted as a hand touches my shoulder, and somebody is speaking, trying to draw me back, but I don't want to, I want to stay in the unknown, where I have no worries. Is that too much to ask? Apparently so, because when I open my eyes, Tori is knelt in front of me, concern evident on her face.

I let my head fall back against the wall and my chest falls and rises as I get my breathing back to normal. "Sorry." I croak, before clearing my throat rather clumsily.

"Do you suffer with anxiety attacks often?" She asks, taking the seat beside me. "That is what just happened, right? I used to get them a lot when I was a teenager too, I had to be taken out of my final exams and put in an ambulance due to them, in fact."

I would respond, but I can't even form a coherent _thought_ , let alone a _sentence_ , so I just listen as she speaks to me.

"I know how bad this must be for you," she is saying. "You're captors are bad people, Tris, but that doesn't mean you aren't allowed to love them. They raised you, cared for you. Don't punish yourself for caring about them, because it's normal - you saw them as your parents, and it's going to be hard to let that go."

"It's not _normal_ ," I seethe. "None of this is normal. I don't care about either of them, and I hope they get caught, and I'm going to make sure they rot behind bars for the rest of their miserable lives. Don't pretend like you know what I'm going through. You have no idea! I don't know why I'm constantly exhausted, and I also don't have a clue what my life is about anymore."

"You don't know why you're exhausted?" She echoes. "You're fighting a war inside of your head every day. If that's not exhausting I don't know what is."

I may be fighting a war, but I'm not so sure that I'm going to win this one.

 **-oo0oo-**

 **Authors note:**

 **Hey guys! New update yay! This is kind of a short chapter, I'm sorry!**

 **Woah, 85 reviews! That's crazy! I'm so glad you guys are enjoying my content, I never thought I would get this much support from you guys, so thank you!**

 **I need some motivation to keep going with this, so please leave some reviews and let me know what you think of this chapter :)**

 **\- GuiltyMind**


	12. Chapter 12

**"Killing The Cliche"**

 **Rated T/M (violence and language)**

 **Chapter 12 (Tobias's POV)**

 **-oo0oo-**

"You want us to do what?" I ask, my eyes wide and my voice hoarse with disbelief. Are they crazy?

"I understand that you may think that it is too risky, and that nothing good will come of this plan, but we truly believe that it will work, with no harm to either of you." One of the officers says, and by the look of him, I'd say he's a superior around here. The chief, perhaps. Or at least something fairly close to that position.

"How can you be so sure?" Tris questions, her eyebrows knitted together tightly. "If one of us did get hurt, then what? It's way too dangerous."

"It's the best plan we've got," the officer replies with confidence. "The only plan we've got, in fact. We are going to give you some time to come to a decision together, but we need your final answer by tomorrow morning. So, until then, we will be taking you for something to eat and then to a room here in the station - not a cell, somewhere much more comfortable, and most of all, safe."

"But.. we'll stay together, right? I've had enough of you all taking us away from each other every five minutes." I say, clenching my jaw.

"We shall ensure that you two are able to have rooms close together," he promises. "You will be able to move through to each other's rooms freely, as the corridor will be shut off and protected in every way possible."

I'm about to argue further but Tris slips her small hand into mine, and I manage to bite my tongue. I know she wants to be away from all of this as soon as possible, and so do I, which means my arguing will not make this situation any better.

"Thank you." Tris says in a small voice, but her lips are tugging up into what I think is a forced smile.

It moves quickly after that - we are transported to another part of the seemingly never-ending station, and are allocated our cells. As promised, they are literally opposite each other, and inside our cells is just one bed, with nice enough looking sheets. But I'd sleep in a real cell if it meant finally feeling as if we were really safe.

I tug her into the one on the left and close the door behind us. This is the first time we've been left alone since we were in the interviewing rooms, and that feels like a century ago. So I take this opportunity to kiss her, because I'm not sure how long we've got to be alone, anyway, so I want to make the most of it.

I cup my hand to her cheek and press my mouth to hers. Her own hand comes up to the back of my head and runs through my hair as I pull her hips up against mine, trying to get as close as possible.

"As much as I want to continue, I think we have a lot of stuff we need to talk about." She says through kisses, but she keeps her body up against mine and shows no signs of pulling away so I just cover her mouth with my own once more and press her gently against the wall.

After a good few minutes of just making out, she eventually pulls away and we sit down on the small cot together in silence, neither of us sure of what to say first. We have so much to discuss, and not enough time in the world to do it.

"This plan... I think we should do it," she eventually says, her eyes trained on her hands. "It's not like we have any other choice, is it? The officer said so himself, its the best plan we have-"

"And the most dangerous."

"Yes, okay, it does hold a lot of risk," she huffs. "But everything we've done to get here was risky and dangerous. But we got through it, didn't we? If we do this we can leave all of this crap behind us for good. If we do this.. well, maybe we'll have a chance to really have a life, one that we don't have to spend hiding and lying and running. I don't know about you, but that's what I want. I want that life."

"I want it too, but what if this plan goes wrong? What if we don't even get an opportunity to live that life? I understand what you're saying, but you must see the other side if it. I want a fresh start as much as you do, but we have to look at this realistically, Tris." I counter, running a hand through my hair in frustration.

"I am looking at this realistically!" she protests. "I've been looking at everything that way. I mean, why do you think it took so long for me to agree to go to the police with all of this? We came here for help, for a way to escape this nightmare. And now we've been offered a solution, and I want to take it. We have to take it."

"But I don't want you to get hurt!" I suddenly shout, standing up from the bed, unable to stay still any longer.

"Don't yell at me, Tobias." She says quietly, her eyes stilled on mine.

"I'm sorry, but you can't seriously expect me to take this lying down, can you? I will not risk losing you, Tris!" I exclaim. "You told me not to say goodbye, but you're so eager to go through with this and risk your life, leaving me to pick up the pieces. We said that we'd get through this together. But how are we supposed to do that when you go along with a stupid plan such as this and practically beg for death? We're supposed to be a team, remember? You said that we have to stick together, but I didn't realise that rule only applied to me."

"You think this is easy for me? Because it's not! But I want to see justice here, because it was _me_ who was lied and tricked and kidnapped. It was _me_ who caused all of this. It was _me_ who put you in danger. So it should be _me_ who has to fix it! We are a team, but sometimes we have to make difficult decisions. And this is one of those, don't you see?"

"I've got nobody left, Tris. No one left that I care about! Apart from you. And I don't want to lose you aswell as everybody else." I shout, before turning my back to her and resting my forehead against the cold wall.

I just want to make her understand how much she really does mean to me. But I've never been good with words, and I'm not sure how to tell her about what's going on inside my head, as well as what her presence does to my heart. I've never had so much to lose before.

After a minute or so, I feel a pair of small, thin arms wrap around my waist from behind, and she presses her forehead between my shoulder blades.

I'm not sure how long we stand there like that, but I never want the moment to end - once it does, I know we'll have to keep talking, and that's the last thing I want to do right now. I hate arguing, with anybody, but I especially despise having a conflict with Tris. It doesn't feel right, shouting and arguing with her, I mean.

Sure, I've broken a few noses and split a few knuckles before, but that's different; that wasn't Tris. That was pointless fights with guys who thought they were tough, and started to mouth off at me, which resulted in me losing my temper. But when I argue with Tris it's serious, it means that whatever decision we come to will be important.

I've never been very good at communication, in any form, but I'm working on it. This is just one of those times that I have to try and hear her out, even though what she wants is dangerously idiotic. But I can't tell her what to do, I won't. I never want to treat her like Marcus treated my mom. I'd never forgive myself if I ever laid a finger on her during an argument. The thought is as unimaginable as it is daunting.

In truth, I'm scared. Scared that now I've told her how I feel, that I've expressed my anger and frustration, she'll decide that I'm not good enough for her. And she'd be right too.

A few months ago, I would've never dreamed of us being together like this - she was smart, popular, kind, well behaved.. and I was the rebellious kid who sat at the back, was hopeless at school work, ignored everyone, and royally pissed off every teacher in that place. It shouldn't work, really. But I know that I speak for both of us when I say that we are different people now. At least, we are to each other.

"You know, Tobias," she murmurs against my back. "When someone cares about you - I mean, really cares - you can tell them how you feel... they won't just go away."

It takes a moment for her words to sink in, and when they do, I feel a tear drip down my face and fall onto my hand. It's just too ironic - the one person who did care about me has gone away. But Tris cares about me too, and despite my explosion a few minutes ago, she's still here, hugging me and reassuring me, making me cry, even.

Usually I'd be embarrassed about crying like this, as I haven't done so since my mother's funeral. But i feel as though I don't have to hide from her, because I've seen her at her worst too - in the motel room, crying and panicking and having a breakdown. And now she is seeing me at my worst, and I'm glad she's still here, and she's still touching me like she did yesterday.

I spin around to face her and wrap my arms around her shoulders, pulling her to me. I can't mess this up. It's the one thing in my life that I know I want, so I'm going to try my hardest to keep her.

"Let's do it, the plan, I mean." I say, sighing into her hair. I don't want to go along with the mad idea, but Tris is right - we have to make difficult decisions in life, and this is one of them. The plan itself holds a lot of danger, but everything we have done up to this point has held just as much, and we made it through. This could be our one chance, and I don't think it would be wise to waste it.

She pulls back a little, just enough to look me in the eyes. "Are you sure? We can talk with the officers, see if we can come up with a new plan -"

"No, you were right, Tris. We have no other option." I interrupt, attempting to reassure her. "I don't like it, but we don't have the luxury to deny a plan that could work. The others may be less risky, but I'm willing to bet none would be as strategic and ingenious as this one. So let's do it."

The plan itself is pretty smart, I must admit - to con Tris's 'parents' into thinking that she wants to meet up. They arrange a place which will be rigged with cameras so the officers can see everything that happens when Tris goes to meet with them. There would be officers with weapons very close by, in case anything were to go wrong and they needed to get her out fast.

I would've liked to accompany Tris, but I've been told to stay put and watch via the cameras with the other officers here at the police station. That's why I'm so hesitant - the idea of her facing them alone is enough to make me want to vomit.

They've killed her family, and now they want to kill her too. What if they've done stuff before that? There are a good few murder cases that went unsolved these past few years, which could've been them, for all we know. So that means they are capable and willing to kill her off, and she has to walk in there alone, with nobody to protect her from the inside.

The officers could get there too late - Tris could've already been shot or stabbed by then. But we have to take that risk, no matter how much I dislike it.

"It's going to be okay," she says softly, slipping her thin arms around my waist. "We're going to be okay. I just know it."

"I hope so." I sigh, skimming my hand over her hair.

But I'm not quite sure whether I believe it or not. I guess, only time will tell.

 **-oo0oo-**

 **Authors Note:**

 **Hey guys, sorry for the shortness of this chapter, and for the slow update too. I'm really not motivated right now, and it was a struggle to even write this chapter. I've got a lot going on right now, so I really am sorry for the lack of updates and even the quality.**

 **On a good note, however, we're one review away from 100 which is seriously crazy! Your support means a lot to me, and I'm pleased to see that you all enjoy my writing.**

 **\- GuiltyMind**


	13. Chapter 13

**Killing The Cliche**

 **Rated T/M (violence and lanaguge)**

 **Chapter 13 (Tris' POV)**

 **-oo0oo-**

I secure the camouflaged ear piece tightly, and cover it with my hair for extra measure.

We've been planning this day for a week now, and I thought that I was prepared. But now I'm not so sure, now that the nerves have started to kick in. But I have to go through with it, I have to finish this. Once and for all. I'm confident in the officers and the agents that have orchestrated this plan, and I just have to keep reminding myself of that.

Tobias and I have been through much more dangerous situations on the lead up to this, and we turned out okay. But that's one of the things that has my stomach churning - the fact that Tobias won't be with me during this. It's always been the both of us, looking out for one another. And now I have to go it alone, which just doesn't feel right.

I bend down to retie my shoelace, and I notice that my fingers are shaking a little. Standing up straight again, my eyes fall upon Tobias who is leaning against my doorframe, his face worn and tired; he hasn't slept much either.

"You all set then?" He asks.

"Not really, but I don't think I ever will be," I chuckle, humourlessly. "Are _you_ ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be, I suppose."

"We'd better get going, they'll be waiting for us." I say, running a hand through my hair, anxiously.

We shuffle out of the cell-styled room and walk along the narrow hallway together, our fingers brushing as we do so. I badly want to stretch out my fingers and lace them with his, but I know that wouldn't be wise - I have to try and distance myself from him sooner rather than later, or I'll be driving myself crazy and this plan will not work.

Out in the main, well-lit hallway, Captain Anderson waits for us with a couple of the others involved with the plan, who will be behind the scenes watching from the cameras, alongside Tobias.

"We have a car waiting outside - a disguised one, of course - to escort you a block away from the location you will be meeting the targets, you will then walk the rest of the way. We will have officers disguised as ordinary citizens, to keep an eye on you as you walk," the Captain tells me as we all continue down the hallway towards what I presume to be a back exit. "The meeting place is bugged with a dozen cameras, and we will be watching you at all times. Armed officers will be waiting at all exits and entrances, and just one signal and they will be in there instantly, is that understood?"

"Crystal clear."

"We will communicate with you through your ear piece, and if you want out, your trigger word is going to be peaches. Okay? If you need anything, or you want to leave that situation, just say peaches and we'll send officers in," he informs me. "Remember, you will not be there for long, we just need you to get some information out of them, them admitting their crime. Then we'll have evidence against them, as we'll be recording the whole interaction."

He pushes open a pair of metal double doors at the end of the hall and for the first time in a week, sunlight fills my vision. A black BMW is parked a few feet away, with a casually-dressed officer stood beside it, waiting.

"I've got it." I say, nodding.

"Good luck, Tris. You'll be okay, don't worry." Captain Anderson says, patting my shoulder with an easy and confident smile. He steps back and lingers around the doorway, giving Tobias and I space to say goodbye, I presume.

He cups my cheek with his hand, anchoring a finger behind my ear. He's so close that his warm breath tickles my forehead, and I can't help but lean into his touch.

"I'll see you soon, okay?" I whisper. "I promise."

"Tris.. if you don't make it back, you need to know-"

"No," I snap, catching his eyes with mine. "I'll be back. Remember what I said? Don't say goodbye, Tobias. Please..."

"I love you." He murmurs into my ear, so quietly that I'm not even sure he even said it. But I know by the pounding of his heart that he really did just say that.

"I love you too." I reply, honestly. And I do. I love the way he makes me feel, and the way I can talk to him about anything. But I can't think about much else because his lips have enveloped mine, and his hands are on my sides, pulling me closer to him.

I've been promising him that I'll come back, that I'll return, but I don't know if that's even true. So if things do end badly, at least I'll have the memory of this as a goodbye.

But I have to pull away eventually, and when I do I turn away and open up the car door, because I know that I only have so much will power left. If I had stayed there a second longer.. I might have ended up backing down.

I close the door shut behind me and buckle up, nibbling on my thumbnail. The officer escorting me gets in the driver seat, and I force myself to look away from the blacked-out window next to my head as we drive away. I can't look back. I have to do this.

I have to finish this.

It feels like only seconds until the car is stopping and I'm being told to get out. My heart is pounding furiously against my rib cage, and I'm struggling to get my breathing under control.

"So you know where you're headed, yes?" She asks me, spinning around in her seat to look at me. I simply nod in response. "Okay, well there's already three of us out on the streets ready, and they will be shadowing you discreetly to ensure you reach the location safely. Good luck Tris."

I climb out of the car and stand on the sidewalk, smoothing down my jacket and quickly making sure that my ear is covered by my hair, just incase they manage to spot my ear piece. The car drives away from the sidewalk and makes a U turn, speeding back the way we came, presumably back to the station.

I begin to walk pretty quickly, because we're already a little off schedule, and I don't want to risk being late and missing an opportunity.

I was given a cellphone by the police, which I used to contact my 'parents'. We arranged a meeting place and a time, and they seem to have bought it. I told them that Tobias ran off and left me, and I don't know anything regarding his whereabouts. I just hope that they're naive and desperate enough to believe me, and to fall right into our trap. I just have to be convincing.

We've arranged to meet at some abandoned warehouse near a loading dock on the other side of town. Piper and some of her older friends used to go down there a lot during the summer of sophomore year to smoke and do who knows what. But after all of her older friends got arrested and shoved into a juvenile detention centre, she stopped going there. I know it pretty well too, as I used to go sit out on the docks to clear my head most of the time. But with finals approaching, my time there became less and less, and I realise now that I haven't been there at all for a couple months now.

I weave my way in and out of some old wooden boats and my feet snag on chains a few times. Despite the sun being out, it's become pretty chilly, and I'm not sure the shaking in my hands is down to that, or if it's simply nerves.

I pause outside of the large opening to the warehouse and take a deep, shaky breath. _I can do this_ , I remind myself.

I use both hands to drag open the large metal door that makes a resounding screeching noise as it scrapes against the concrete beneath my feet. I step inside and pull it shut behind me.

The warehouse itself is grimy and has a profound fish smell, making me grimace a little. Thankfully it's not completely dark, as there are a few working lights that hang above me, as well as the windows - well, the ones that aren't boarded up.

Suddenly, the ear piece crackles and the voice of Captain Anderson fills my ear, "Call out to them. Our guys saw them go in. You aren't alone in there, Tris."

"Hello," I call out, as instructed. "I'm here. That's what you wanted, right? So come out, you _cowards_."

On cue, there's a shuffling sound on my left and I spin to face it, just in time to watch them both emerge from the shadows. There once soft, loving faces have changed and morphed into ones that I don't even recognise. It's enough to make me want to throw up.

"I honestly didn't think you'd be stupid enough to show up." My 'mother' cackles.

"Yeah, well, it's not like I have anything else left to lose, is it?" I spit back.

"Ah yes, not since your precious boyfriend got up and left you," she teases, smirking at me, viciously. "Such a shame. And a handsome boy too, you should have kept him on a tighter leash, sweetheart."

"Why did you do it?" I ask, scowling. "Why did you kill my real family but keep me? It doesn't make any sense."

"Aren't you supposed to be a clever girl, Tris?" He counters, raising an eyebrow. "We didn't want to kill you because you could've proved useful for us. How were we to know that you would've grown up to be such a.. flower. You wouldn't hurt anybody, but we had hoped you would've grown out of that nice girl phase. But then you found that website.."

"What, so you wanted me to join you in your hobbie? You wanted me to kill people, just like you do? That's _sick_."

"It would've been perfect if you hadn't gone and messed everything up," she cuts in, angrily. "We would've still been living together as a family, a happy, loving family. But then you decide to screw it all up and then play hide and seek with that stupid boy next door! Pathetic! Did you honestly think you could run from us forever?"

"Did you honestly think that I'd just stick around and let you stab me to death? I don't think so." I laugh harshly.

"But that's exactly what you're doing now, is it not? Did you think coming here would mean resolving a conflict? Sharing a hug and letting go of it all?" She counters. "But the most humorous part about this whole thing, is the fact that you think you are smart enough to trick us, you and your friends at the police station. Are they still talking to you through that earpiece? And I bet they're happily watching us on those cameras they set up in here. Looks like your little plan didn't work after all, sweetheart."

In shock, I watch as my so-called father pulls a gun out from his jeans and points it up in all four corners of the large warehouse, shooting and hitting something - the cameras. It's now that I wish I hadn't gone through with this plan, after all.

This is bad.

This is _really_ bad.

 **-oo0oo-**

 **Authors Note:**

 **Hey guys! Another chapter, yay! I wanted to do a quicker update to make up for my lack of uploads recently, and I really hope you enjoyed. I know this another short chapter, but the next one will probably be my longest as all the drama really starts to unfold!**

 **Thank you for over 100+ reviews! I honestly didn't even expect to get 1, so the fact that I've reached 100 is seriously amazing, and I'm grateful for everyone who had supported this story so far :)**

 **Drop a review and let me know what you think!**

 **\- GuiltyMind**


	14. Chapter 14

**Killing The Cliche**

 **Rated T/M (Violence and language)**

 **Chapter 14 (Tris' POV)**

 **-oo0oo-**

"Scared yet?" My 'mother' asks with a smirk, just after my supposed father shot down the cameras.

How did they know? How did they find out? We must have been betrayed by somebody who knew all of the plans, somebody on the inside. If they have a connection to an officer somehow, if could explain the fact that they have never been caught. Their officer friend could be destroying evidence, covering up their tracks..

"Tris, what's going on in there? The cameras have been shot down! We need to get you out of there right now, but we cannot get into contact with any of the officers surrounding the area," Captain Anderson says, frantically, over my ear piece. "Tris, answer me!"

"I'm sorry," I say, my voice shaking. "But this is between me and them... I have to do this alone. Tell Tobias that I'm sorry, and that I didn't want to leave him."

As the last word leaves my mouth, I rip the ear piece away from my ear and throw it to the ground, crushing it under my sneaker until it's in pieces. I look up and straight at my 'parents', who are watching on, with slight surprise plastered on their faces.

"You happy now? It's just us, no cops, no watchers, nothing." I spit.

"That's the dumbest thing you could've done. Now you have nothing. Are you really that desperate to die?"

"Before you talk about dying," I say. "How about you tell me everything? I _need_ to know."

"Well, I'm sure you know most of it, because I have no doubts that you raked the internet for information about that night in Chicago," my 'mother' says. "But you really want to know the details?"

"Yes, I want to know. You owe me that much, don't you think?"

"Very well," she sneers. "We we're watching your house in Chicago for months on end, watching everything you did - what times your real mother and father left for work, what time you and your brother came home. We mapped out your day to the minute. And then one night, we finally struck. We killed them all.. all of them but you, obviously. We knocked you out with a stab wound and a fist to the head and brought you back to our hometown. The knock to your head proved to be much more severe than intended, but catered to our advantage. You barely remembered a thing. Which is why we were able to trick you in to believing that we were your real parents, and you had lived with us your whole life. We weren't caught because we were smart enough not to leave a trace, not to mention our connections to a few individuals on the force who were able to cover up any tracks we had unintentionally left behind."

"Who are you really?" I ask, curiously. I watch them hesitate and roll my eyes. "Come on, you and I both know that I'm not getting out of here alive, right? So what's the harm in telling me?"

"My name's Jeanine Matthews, and my husband is Edward Matthews. Happy?" She eventually spits out.

"So, what now? You'll kill me? And then what? The police already have your image on their computers, it won't be hard to work out your real identity. They can put up posters, ask around. Do you realise just how screwed you are?" I accuse.

"We'll find a way around it, we always do." Edward counters, narrowing his eyes at me defensively. But I can tell he's considering what I just said. If I try to keep them talking for long enough for the police to arrive, maybe I'll actually get out of this, still breathing, that is.

"But now they have your picture. They know who you are. They know what your voice sounds like," I protest. "It's different for you now. Why don't you just give up? You did a bad thing, don't you think you should just own up to it?"

"Yeah, and then maybe we could make friendship bracelets with all the other psychos and murderers we got locked up with?" Jeanine flings back, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Enough of the talk," Edward growls, before I can respond. "We need to deal with you quickly so we can get out of here before your cop friends come and ruin it all."

I back up away from them, slowly, my hands shaking at my sides. Is this it? Is this how I'm going to die? After everything I've been through to prevent this from happening, it's all proved to be useless.

I wish I'd said a proper goodbye to Tobias, that I'd really took the time to hug him for - what I know now to be - the last time. But at least I told him that I loved him. At least, when I go, he'll know how I really felt about him.

But, thinking about it now, saying that and then never coming back to him would hurt him even more than just leaving out feelings unsaid. But he's strong, stronger than me, despite what he's always insisted. He's dealt with his mother's death, his father's abuse... he can deal with this too. I know he can.

I watch Edward's hand, the one of which holds the gun. The heavy metal weapon, the same weapon that threatens my very existence. I wonder if it'll hurt? I hope he shoots me someplace to make it quick. I don't want to prolong it, but I know that's probably exactly what they want; to watch me bleed out, to watch the light leave my eyes, slowly but surely.

I secretly hope that they will show me enough mercy to let me go quickly, to make sure that it isn't painful, so that it's quicker than falling asleep. But I already know that it's wishful thinking. These aren't nice people, and they are going to make sure my death is as painful as possible, after all the grief I've caused them the last few weeks.

So this is it, I guess.

"Please, think about this," I say, attempting to talk him out of what he's about to do. "Do you want more blood on your hands? Maybe if you go to them now you'll get a shorter sentence?"

"A shorter sentence?" He scoffs. "We're already eligible for about fifty life sentences, what's one more going to do, huh? And besides, if we end up escaping successfully, we can't have you giving them our identies. It'd ruin everything. But your curiosity has cost you your life, little girl. I hope you are pleased with yourself."

I'm at a dead end, I have no other plans. I could try to run, but that would be moronic. They'd shoot me before I could even reach the door. There's nothing I could use to defend myself either, just a few old rotting wooden crates nearby. I could continue to try and keep them talking, but I don't think that'd last very long - they're getting more and more impatient as the minutes go by. So I do the only thing that I can think of.

Dashing forward, I use all my weight and crash into Edward, somehow managing to knock him down to the floor. His gun skids a good ways away from us, and I kick it further away so that there's no chance in him grabbing it quickly.

Jeanine runs at me, her hands grabbing for me, but I duck and roll out of the way, allowing her to trip over her husband and fall face first against the concrete floor. Taking advantage of their positions, I run over to where I kicked the gun and grab it, clutching it tightly in my right hand. I spin around to see them climb off the floor, watching me warily. I have the upper hand now. I just have to make the most of it.

"Careful now, Tris," Edward says. "You don't want to do anything you'll regret."

"This is what's going to happen; the cops are going to show up real soon, and then they're going to bang you up for the rest of your life." I say, my voice cold and unfeeling, (trying to mimic Tobias's tone when he's angry, pretty much).

"Why don't you just kill us now?" Jeanine asks, almost mocking me, it seems. An evil-looking smirk is playing at her lips, like she finds the idea of her death amusing. "Don't you want to see some real justice here? An eye for an eye, as they say. We killed your family, took away your life... don't you want to get some revenge, Tris?"

I know exactly what she's trying to do - she's trying to psych me out. But I won't let her. I have to stay true to myself, and I know that I'd never do something like that. I'm no monster. I have to wait this out until the authorities arive to take care of this properly. I shall not hurt either one of them unless neccesary, unless my life is in danger. And right now, it is not.

So I need to keep my composure and just remain calm. _I'm better than them_ , I remind myself, but it's hard to remember that when I have a strange feeling, a feeling that is telling me to pull the trigger.

"I can't reverse what you did, and killing you wouldn't do any good," I say, fighting to keep my voice somewhat steady. "No one else needs to die, as far as I'm concerned. I won't give you an easy way out. You're going to rot in a jail cell, and you will hate every second of it. I'll make sure of that."

"You act like you don't have the same urges as we do, Tris, but you aren't that good of an actress, let me tell you." Edward laughs, humourlessly, so cold and empty that it echoes around the open warehouse.

"I can see it in your eyes," Jeanine adds, watching me closely, as if she is intrigued by what she sees. "You want us dead. You're mouth tells us one thing, but the rest of you tells us another. You want to see us suffer, just like they did. You want to punish us in a more severe, long-term way, to give us a taste of our own medicine, to show us that you are just as capable of taking a life as we are. You -"

"SHUT UP!" I yell, my fingers clenching around the cool metal of the handgun. I can't take their mind games any longer. They're trying to lure me into a trap.

In a split second, Edward is sprinting towards me, his face set into a mean, nasty scowl, and he looks deadly. Bloodthirsty, even. Without thinking, I raise the gun and pull the trigger. He yells out as he falls to the ground, clutching at his shoulder where the bullet lodged itself into his skin.

Jeanine runs to his side and I back up a little, keeping my distance as much as possible. But before she can touch her husband I raise the gun to aim at her head, startling her. "Get back, don't touch him." I growl, narrowing my eyes at the woman before me. Surprisingly, she does as she is told, though looks desperately at her husband who is howling in pain.

He has sunken to his knees, his head hanging as he sobs. I hate myself for relishing in the sight. The man who is so determined to get rid of me, kneeling and crying before me. Eventually, he raises his head to look at me, his eyes stilling on mine. Scarlet liquid has stained his shirt, seeping all the way down his sleeve and trickling along his arm.

He'll bleed out before the cops arrive, I'm sure of it. He's a terrible man, the worst kind of person out there, and he deserves the most painful end. But I can't bring myself to keep him alive like this. I'd want them to do the same for me, and although I know they wouldn't.. I have to be the bigger person about this.

I raise the gun to aim at the middle of his head, and his shoulders sag in relief. He wants his death as much as I do.

"I can live with the blood on my hands, but can you?" He asks, his voice strained.

I let my eyes close and my finger finds the trigger. I hear the shot, and it rings around me loudly, making my ears buzz. And when I reopen my eyes, he's slumped on the floor, not moving, not breathing.

He's gone. I killed him.

My hand shakes so hard that I almost drop the gun, and I stare down at the man I used to call my father, lying in a pool of his own blood. How did it come to this? Almost a month ago I was a normal girl with a normal family. Now I'm a girl with the blood of his father on her hands.

It's hard to believe that I did this. That I'm going to be held responsible for this. But it was in self defence. I only shot him in the first place because he charged at me. It was me or him. And I had to choose. It may not have been with bad intentions, but it still makes me a murderer, doesn't it?

I'm only brought back to my senses when a foot kicks me in my side, knocking me to the floor and winding me. I gasp for air, trying to breathe again, but in the time that it's taken me to regain my composure, Jeanine has already grabbed my gun and is stood above me, pointing it straight at my head, right between my eyebrows.

This really is the end now. I'm going to die at the hands of my supposed mother. And I never even got to live my life. I never got to attend college, get married, have kids, grow old... What have I got to show for the seventeen years I've been here?

Just as I hear the bullet click into the chamber, the large metal door to the warehouse skids open and there's lots of yelling.

The police. _Finally_.

"Put the gun down!" Someone yells. But as soon as the words have been uttered she pulls the trigger. I scream and roll out of the way, but I don't stop screaming after that.

An excruciating amount of pain stabs at my stomach, and I can't breathe, I can't think, I can't move. But my eyes remain on my shooter long enough to watch her raise the gun to her temple and pull the trigger, killing herself.

"Tris! Tris I need you to stay awake, you need to stay with me, ok?" Somebody is saying, and I feel hands on my shoulders, keeping me from writhing around in pain. The person keeps talking to me, trying to get me to stay awake. I'm not sure who it is, as my vision is blurry, and it's a struggle to keep my eyes open.

My body is getting heavy and every fibre of my being wills for the seemingly neverending pain to just stop. But the one thing that keeps me conscious in this moment is the approaching sound of somebody screaming my name, so desperately that their voice crack and I can hear them sobbing as they kneel next to me.

A hand slips into mine and another cradles my cheek. "Tris," they plead. "Don't leave me, baby. C'mon, you need to fight now, harder than you ever have before. Please, you can't leave me too. I need you here. I need you, Tris."

A sense of relief washes over me, because I'd know that voice anywhere.

 _Tobias_.

I want to open my eyes again, I want to assure him that I'm here and that I'm awake, but I can feel myself slipping into the unknown. I fight to stay awake, to stay conscious, but voices are fading and blurring into one colossal amount of white noise.

And then there's nothing. Just darkness and silence. No sirens, no gunshots, no shouting, no crying... just silence. Am I done yet? Is this it? I don't know if I can be forgiven for all that I've done up to this point. I don't know; I don't know; I don't know.

I want to be with Tobias, I want that new life we were talking about. I want the opportunities to have kids and get married and grow old. But as much as I fight and yell and scream in my head, nothing changes.

This really is the end. And what a tragic one it was.

 **-oo0oo-**

 **Authors Note:**

 **AGH! The drama! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, I worked super hard on it, and I hope it satisfied all of your expectations! This isn't the last chapter, there are still around two left, so stay tuned!**

 **Leave a review and let me know what you think!**

 **\- GuiltyMind**


	15. Chapter 15

**Killing The Cliche**

 **Rated T/M (violence and language)**

 **Chapter 15 (Tobias' POV)**

 **-oo0oo-**

I can't stand this, having to sit by and watch her like this, knowing that there's absolutely nothing that I can do to make it better. This is out of my hands.

But at least I have one less thing to worry about.. Tris's fake parents are both dead, which means we are free from them. The plan worked, despite its major setback. But that success came with a cost.

I never should've let her go there alone, we could've sorted something out, I should have been there. I keep thinking about the moment I saw her there in the middle of the warehouse, her body limp on the floor, blood seeping out of her stomach from the gunshot wound.

At first, I thought she was really gone. But seeing the twitch in her hands gave me hope, and in a flash I was begging her to stay, crying like I never have before. I thought that I was really losing her.

I don't know how long I've been sat on the cold plastic chair in the waiting room, but my butt is numb and my stomach is growling with hunger. But I can't bring myself to eat anything because I know that I'll throw it all back up when I think about her lying on the warehouse floor again.

Tori - the kind officer who orchestrated this plan, alongside Captain Anderson - sat with me for the most part, as we awaiting news of Tris's medical state. She was rolled into surgery around six hours ago, and a doctor came out to tell us she is in recovery around an hour ago. As soon as the doctor left, Tori got up to take a call and I've been sat here, alone, ever since.

It's killing me that they won't let me see her. Nobody is telling me anything, and I know that I want to be there when she wakes up, to reassure her that everything is okay. But it appears that won't be possible.

As Tori returns, a doctor reenters the waiting room and I sit up straighter, hopeful that this is news about Tris. Good news. Thankfully, the doctor makes his way over to us and both Tori and I stand, anxious to hear what he has to say.

"Tris's surgery went well, I'm pleased to say," he tells us, and a weight is lifted from my shoulders. "Luckily, the bullets entry wound really was in her belly, so none of her organs were torn or damaged. There was no damage to her artery either, which was why she didn't bleed out as quickly as she should've."

"So.. she'll be ok?" I ask, my voice wavering.

"Yes," he confirms. "She's going to be just fine. We've patched her up, and now she just needs lots of rest. Right now she's under a pretty heavy amount of drugs, some of which make her very drowsy, so she'll be sleeping for a good few hours now. But you are free to go in and sit with her, I'm sure she'd like you to be there when she wakes up."

"Thank you doctor." I say, giving him the most genuine smile I can muster up.

Tris is going to be alright. It's all going to be okay.

I follow him out of the waiting room and down a long stretch of squeaky clean hallway, until he stops at room 46. I give him another forced smile and slip inside, my heart breaking at the sight before me.

Tris is lying on her hospital bed, hooked up to an assortment of machines, with wires coming out of her left, right and centre. Her face is pale, and she has a few stitches on her forehead, due to a nasty looking gash that she must have gotten in all of the fighting that I presume went down. Her blonde hair is splayed out on the pillow, framing her head.

There's a lump in my throat that I can't seem to get rid of; seeing her like this is so surreal. She's always been so strong, so certain, even in her moments of panic and anxiety. This girl.. this girl lying on that hospital bed is not the Tris that I've come to know and love. It almost seems like a completely different person, like I'm staring down at a stranger.

But once I've pulled up a chair to her bedside and slipped my hand into hers, I know that this is my girl. Her hands are still the same, yet colder. And her nails are still painted that dark blue colour. I bring her small hand up to my mouth and press my lips to it, closing my eyes.

I just want her to wake up, I want her to open her eyes and give me that smile that gives me a warm feeling in my stomach. But until then, I'm going to sit here and wait. I'm not leaving her, not now, not ever. I don't care if they try to drag me out kicking and screaming, I'm _staying_.

"Tris," I say softly. "I'm not sure if you can even hear me right now.. but even so, I need you to know how much I need you here with me. You're my home... I don't care where we are, as long as we're together. And I wish I'd had the balls to get to know you sooner but I know you now, and I'm so glad that I do. I don't know what's going to happen next, but we're going to deal with it as a team.. like we always have. I'm not going to go away. It's me and you against the world, baby."

"Careful now, Tobias, you might make me vomit all over you. I mean, who knew you could be so cliche?" She murmurs, the smallest of smiles tugging at her lips.

I cup her face with my hands and her eyes flutter open, looking up into mine for the first time in, what feels like, forever. "There's my girl." I chuckle, stroking my thumb over her cheekbone idly.

"What, you didn't think you could get rid of me that easily did you, number boy?"

"A guy can hope, I guess." I counter and she smiles, closing her eyes again, presumably blocking the light from her eyes, since they are pretty damn bright in here. I sit back in my chair and give her time to properly wake up and let her eyes adjust to the light.

"So, what happened?" She asks, eventually. "The last thing I remember is watching Jeanine kill herself, and lots of pain.. so much blood."

Jeanine? Who the hell is that? I let it go, assuming that she's just delusional from all the drugs she's been given.

"I'm not sure, but you were shot in the stomach, the ambulances brought you here and you had surgery done to take out the bullet. You're okay now, though. It didn't burst your artery, or damage any of your organs either."

"I'm sleepy." She says, and I watch as her eyes begin to droop a little.

"That'll be the meds, the doctor said they'd make you a little drowsy." I respond, taking her hand in mine again.

"So, _baby_ ," she smirks. "Its me and you against the world, huh? I go back to my previous statement, who knew you could be that cliche? I always had you for the guy who pretends not to care at all, and shows affection with deep stares and jaw clenching."

"So, here's me being all sweet and romantic and, yes, cliche, and what are my thanks? Ridicule? Ingratitude? Wow, I clearly have the most wonderful taste in girlfriends, don't you think?"

"The best," she confirms. "I'm pretty irreplaceable, Tobias. And like you said, you're not going to go away. And I'm going to hold you to that, so lucky you, you're officially stuck with me now."

"Eh, I'm sure I can handle that." I tease, skimming her jaw with my nose and planting a small kiss on her neck.

It amazes me how she tries to act so carefree and happy after going through something as traumatic as getting shot. I was all prepared to be comforting her as she cried her eyes out, but she's the complete opposite of what I expected. She's had a lot of experience with putting on a brave face, though, so I'm not sure if this is just a front to hide what she's truly feeling.

"How are you, Tris?" I ask, my tone becoming more serious now, and I watch her smile fade.

"I don't know," she admits, sighing a little. "A part of me wants to just get out of here and keep acting like nothing happened, as I've done for most of my life. But I can't pretend like the past month didn't happen. I just can't get to grips with what they did.. with what I did."

"What you did?" I question, confused.

"I killed him, Tobias. He was going to attack me so I just shot him. I took a life. And maybe he deserved it, and I know that I don't care about him.. but somebody did, and somebody is missing him terribly out there. And it's all my fault."

"Listen to me," I say firmly. "What happened back there was not your fault. You did what you had to do to survive. If you hadn't have shot him, you wouldn't be here right now, Tris, don't you get it? It was killed or be killed. You did the right thing."

"I don't think I'll ever be able to see it that way."

I wish she'd forgive herself already. She holds on to so much, and refuses to let it go, putting all the blame on herself as she does so. She needs to stop, but I know that it's not something that can happen overnight. But with time.. maybe I can help her see that sometimes she has to admit that some things, she cannot be blamed for.

"How are _you_ doing?" She asks, watching me carefully.

"Better, now that you're awake," I answer, honestly. "But when I saw you like that on the floor... I was so scared. Scared out of my mind that I was going to lose you, just like I lost my mother. Then you passed out and wouldn't respond to anything I said, I honestly thought you were gone, until the paramedic confirmed your heartbeat was shallow but still there. I was so, so scared."

She gives my hand a squeeze and gives me a small but reassuring smile. "I'm here, I'm okay. There's no need to be scared now."

The doctor comes in after that, ruining our alone time. He does some tests in case of a concussion, since she hit her head pretty hard when she fell down after being shot. She then has a few injections in her arm, for what, I'm not sure. Then a nurse arrives too with a glass of water and a plate of dry crackers, which Tris consumes slowly.

Once the hospital staff have left the room, Tori comes in with Captain Anderson.

"How are you feeling, Tris?" Tori asks, resting a hand on her shoulder.

"Okay, I suppose," she responds, shrugging. "What's going to happen now? When I get out of hospital, I mean."

"Well, there will be no arrest, seeing as they are both dead now," Captain Anderson says. "So our main focus is to get you somewhere to stay, and help you join school again so you can get your exams finished and get those grades for college. Tobias, I assume you are ok with simply returning home, but Tris, I'm not quite sure where you are going to stay."

Tris and I share a glance. Go back to Marcus? He'll murder me, most likely. But I can't tell the police, can I? But.. maybe it is time to get the justice I deserve, that my mom deserves. She's gone now, and the least I can do is have a life that she couldn't, to prove to myself and to her that Marcus doesn't have all the power over us. Maybe it's time to drop my cards, to tell the cops everything. I wouldn't ever have to see him again. I'd finally be free.

"Legally, im allowed to live alone, aren't I?" Tris pipes up, and I see a spark in her eye - she has an idea of some kind.

"Yes..." Tori confirms.

"Well, why can't I just go home to live at my house until my high school education finishes? Then I'll be off to college and won't ever have to look back." She suggests.

"Are you sure you're ready for that? Going back to your family home could bring back awful memories..." Captain Anderson points out, anxiously.

"Maybe, but there's a boy who lives next door who's bedroom window is opposite mine. So if I ever get sad or mad or whatever.. I'll look over and he'll be there. It's what I want. Really."

A smile tugs at my mouth. If she moves back into her old house, I could spend most of my time there, even sleeping there if Tris wouldn't mind too much. Though something tells me she would be more than happy to have me stay there with her. Marcus wouldn't even notice.

And she's right, I'll be there for her, no matter what. We can clear out their stuff, make it so they never even existed. Anything to make her feel more comfortable in the weeks she would be living there, until college applications and such are due, though I'm pretty sure she told me that she sent her application off to Stanford last month.

Which means there will be no hopes in us attending the same college, but something tells me that we'll make it work, despite the distance we may have between us.

After all, there's not much that could shake either of us, not anymore.

"I'm sure we can make that possible," the Captain assures us with a genuine smile. "But for now, I want you to focus on healing, Tris. We'll visit again real soon. You're both safe now. They're gone."

I thank the two friendly officers once more before they leave, and as I turn back to Tris after showing them out, she gives me the most adoring smile I think possible. She shuffles over to one side of her bed and strips down the covers, waving me over.

Hesitantly, I lie down next to her, careful not to touch her stomach, and slip an arm around her. She rests her head on my chest and plays with my fingers on the hand she's holding.

We sit in silence for a while, a comfortable silence that feels nice and calming. I can just lie here with the girl I have happened to fall in love with, grateful that the both of us are alive and breathing, and that the danger is gone.

It's all over. For good. No more hiding. No more running. Its okay to walk together on the street without fearing we're being followed, or having to constantly look behind us. It'll be nice to take her out on dates, and go to the movies. I want to do all of the stuff couples are supposed to do - that cliche shit that Tris pretends to hate but secretly loves.

We finally have a shot at that new life we have been talking about, and there's no way that I'm wasting a second of it.

"You and me. Forever, right?" She whispers into the silence of the hospital room. I kiss her temple and smile against her hair.

"Forever, Tris. And don't you forget it."

 **-oo0oo-**

 **Authors Note:**

 **Woo! Tris isn't dead, and you guys have your happy ending! This isn't the last official chapter, as I will be uploading an epilogue very soon to end my first story! I'm sooo happy how this turned out, and I really hope you guys have enjoyed reading it as much as I have writing it.**

 **Leave a review and let me know what you thought to the ending. Did it meet your expectations?**

 **\- GuiltyMind**


	16. Chapter 16

**"Killing The Cliche"**

 **Rated T/M (violence and lanaguge)**

 **Epilogue (Tris' POV)**

 **-oo0oo-**

Lectures here consist of our professor droning on about the history of creative writing, and how far it dates back, while us students either secretly read magazines or discreetly text behind our binders.

It's not because I find the subject boring, but because these lectures are scheduled on Friday afternoons. And after a long week of working hard, a lecture is exactly what I don't need to kickstart my weekend.

I feel something hit the back of my head and I look back to see Marlene and Shauna grinning at me from a few rows back, and Lynn is pretending to slit her own throat. I roll my eyes at them, but I smile before turning back around.

I met Marlene first, out of the three. Her dorm is opposite mine and we ended up bumping into each other on our first day, both of us lost. So we found our way to class together, figuring out we are majoring in the same thing. She then introduced me to her friend, Shauna, and her twin sister, Lynn. Not identical twins, though. They couldn't be more different.

Despite only being here for a month, I've gotten to know all three pretty well, and they make the boring classes much more tolerable. I've made a couple of other friends too, all of which are super nice. And my rooomate - Summer - is cool too, and we seemed to hit it off straight away.

My cellphone buzzes and I smile when I see a message from him pop up on my screen.

 _Tobias: Enjoying your lecture, Prior?_

 _Tobias: I'm certainly enjoying my free afternoon. Sucks for you!_

I roll my eyes and type out my message.

 _Tris: Oh, it's so on, number boy._

I pocket my cellphone and glance towards the clock. Five more minutes until I'm free, five more minutes until the weekend starts.

Things have been much better for me since the whole warehouse situation. The only thing that really bugs me is the scar on my stomach from the bullet - it's a constant reminder of what happened, and it's like I'll never be able to let it go.

Going back to school after everything that had happened was tough. We told the police that we didn't want the story getting out to the press because we both knew that would mean interviews, media coverage.. and answering questions I simply didn't want to. But that also meant when we got back to school, everybody thought that we had lied about the whole thing.

Naturally, Piper had told every member of the student body, and we were pretty much public enemy number one at that point. But it didn't matter so much, because I had Tobias and he had me. And although we were the prime topic of everybody's hushed conversation, nobody said anything to our faces. I'm not sure whether it was the fact that Tobias would kick their asses, or they all thought we were psychos. Either way, everyone mostly stayed out of our way, which was more than fine with me.

Tobias was offered a scholarship to Chicago State for his Artwork, and of course, he took it. I was given a couple offers from a few different colleges around the US, one being Stanford, my dream school. The tuition would be paid from the money that I was given from the cops - the savings my real family had left behind.

Tobias was happy for me, I knew he would be. We had the 'long distance' conversation multiple times, coming to the conclusion every time that we would try to keep our relationship going, despite me being in California, and him being in Chicago.

The bell rings out, breaking me out of my thoughts, and I gather up my binder and notes. I wait up for Lynn, Marlene and Shauna and we walk out together, complaining about how boring Friday lectures are.

On the walk back to the dormitory buildings on the opposite side of campus, Lynn tells us about her date tonight with a girl she met at a bar in the city last week, and Shauna informs us all about her plans to meet up with her boyfriend tomorrow night.

"Tris, do you wanna come get a coffee with us before you head back?" Marlene offers as the campus coffee house comes into view.

"I would, but I've got somewhere I have to be. But I'll see you guys later, ok?" I decline politely, and we all bid our goodbyes. I continue the walk back to my dorm, alone now, and slip in my earphones to block out the noise around me.

Choosing to attend Chicago State was definitely the right choice. Despite Stanford being one of the best schools in the US - alongside Yale and Harvard - I really don't think I would've fit in there. And besides, Stanford doesn't have a Tobias Eaton.

Sure, my relationship with him was one of the main reasons I decided to take up my offer here, but I just really wanted a fresh start, somewhere I think I could fit in. There's people like me here - hardworking, but not too intelligent. Besides, the creative writing major here is amazing, possibly Stanford level.

And being in Chicago makes me feel so much closer to home; after all, my real family did live here, and so did I. I feel connected to them now that I'm here. It's stupid, considering I don't even know them, but I can't help but miss them - the prospect of a family.

I return to my dorm faster than usual, and find it empty - Summer's Friday classes tend to drag on a little more than I do, so she isn't usually back for another hour or two. And once she does return, she only stays for five minutes to pack a bag. Her boyfriend, Chase, lives a floor above us, so she usually spends her Friday and Saturday nights there.

I spend most of my night on my laptop, watching movies and finishing off a piece of work that's due Monday morning. Eventually, my phone buzzes, indicating I have a text message.

 _Tobias: Get your cute butt up here. And bring snacks!_

Smiling, I shut down my laptop and roll off my bed. I throw on one of Tobias's maroon coloured hooded sweatshirts over what I'm wearing already, and tug my hair up into a rather messy bun. Before leaving, I grab a bag of candy corn from under my bed, as requested.

I take the elevator to floor six, and walk to the end of the hall where Four's dorm is. He shares with Shauna's boyfriend, Zeke Pedrad. We usually hang out together at the coffee place after class, and I've gotten to know him pretty well. His twin brother, Uriah, usually hangs out with us too, but that's because everybody knows he has a huge crush on Marlene. It's kind of cute, really.

But as I approach the door, there's a neon yellow sticky note taped to it that reads, 'Roof'. I take it down and scrunch it up, just incase anybody else sees it and decides they want to come up and join us or something.

So I leave out of the fire escape and climb the steel steps a few floors above, until I reach the roof. I swing myself over and land on the concrete floor. Across the rooftop is Tobias who is lying a blanket out, and grins as he sees me.

"Nice of you to join me." He says as I make my way towards him. I throw the bag of candy corn in his direction and it hits his chest, but he manages to catch the bag before it falls to the floor.

As soon as I'm close enough, he grabs my waist and pulls me against him, enveloping my mouth with a kiss. We haven't been alone like this for a couple days now, and I've definitely missed these kind of kisses.

"The pleasure is all yours." I counter as we pull away.

He chuckles and we lie together on the blanket, our faces tilted up towards the sky. It's pretty late, so the one blue sky has shifted to a sheet of black, scattered with stars. We started coming up here a week after arriving as a place to talk about stuff we couldn't with other people around. It's like our very own place, somewhere only we know.

And although I can hear people partying somewhere nearby, and there's someone outside our building arguing, it feels as if we're the only people in the whole world. We talk about our day, about the people we met, the things we learnt.

"I love you, Tris." He murmurs into my ear after a while.

"I love you too."

I roll over and catch my lips with his, and he pulls me closer so that I'm straddling his lap and he's sat up straight, holding my head in place and skimming my back under the sweatshirt with his hand. I can taste candy corn on his lips, and I have the butterflies in my stomach that I get every time we kiss. He smells like wind and mint and aftershave.

I hook my arm around his neck and push my body nearer to his, desperate to get even closer, if it were even possible. His slight stubble scratches my cheek but I don't care, I just smile into the kiss as he deepens it.

As much as I would've liked to stay in that moment forever, we have to pull away at some point. And when we do our foreheads rest together and our breaths mingle.

"Thank you for everything.. I don't know where I'd be if it weren't for you, baby." He whispers into the night.

"Ditto." I say, a smile tugging at my lips when I see the genuine glint in his eye.

I've never really had a place to call home, and neither has Tobias. But after everything that's happened, I think I've realised that I don't need a place, I just need a person. And he is my person, I know that now.

 _He is my home._

 **-oo0oo-**

 **Authors Note:**

 **And that's a wrap, I guess! The story has come to and end. I really hope you all enjoyed it, and I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate all the follows, favourites and reviews you all have given me. I never even thought my story could attract so many of you!**

 **I have an idea for a new story, and I'll be uploading the first chapter as soon as I can, so make sure you stick around to see that! Thank you again, and I hope you all enjoyed reading this epilogue!**

 **\- GuiltyMind**


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